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MUNRO’S PUBLICATIONS. 

x 

Munro’s Elementary School Books. 


GERMAN SERIES. 

No. 1. The German Self-Instructor. Price 2.5 cents. Being a method of 
learning German on a new and easy plan. By Edward Chamier, Professor 
of German, New York City. 


No. 2. Price ^5 cents. Being a continuation of the German Self-In- 
structor, intended for persons who are their own instructors, and also 
specially adapted for schools. By Edward Chamier. 


FRENpH SERIES. . 

No. 1. PJ'ice a5 cent§ By Illion Costellan». | Being an Elementary 
Grammar of the French Lmiguage containing the wjbrds most in use, with 

exprei«lyo^Dr Young jLearners, Soldiers, Sail- 
ois. Travelers, and all persoife.wlip are their qwn'injsfructors 

- '■ • ■» 

No. 2 Price 25 cents. By Lucikn Gudin, Profef^or of French in the 
of &F?Lch Snguii?®'^ ^ practical ^ide to the acquisition 


SPANISH SERIES. 


No. 1. Price 25 cents. By Lucien Gudin, Professor of 
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practical guide to the acquisition of the Spanish Language. 
Address 


r..anguages, and 
This book is a 


GEORGE MUNRO, Munro’s Publishing House, 

CP. G. Box 8751.) 17 to 27 Vaudewater Street, New York. 


Marrying and Giving in Marriage. 


A NOVEL, 


By MRS. MOLESWORTH. 



NEW YORK: 

GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER. 

17 TO 27 Vandkwatkr Street. 


MRS. MOLESWORTH^S WORKS 

CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBRARY (POCKET EDITION) : 

NO. PRICE. 

654 “Us.” An OM-fasliioned Story 10 

992 Marrying and Giving in Marriage .... 20 


MAREYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE 


CHAPTER I. 

It is but seldom in life that events — unexpected or little 
looked-for events more especially perhaps — bring with 
them cause for either unmixed rejoicing or unmitigated re- 
gret. I doubt if news often illumines a human counte- 
nance with less qualified pleasure than shone in the face of 
Lady Christina Verney the day that her husband an- 
nounced to her his reluctant acceptance of a certain mis- 
sion, diplomatic or financial, perhaps both — its precise 
nature may be left indefinite — which would oblige himself 
and his family to take up their abode in Paris for a period 
of several months. 

Life, it is but fair to Lady Christina to premise, had 
not been all a path of rose-leaves to her. Her lines had 
lain over some rough ground, and the pleasant places had 
been tardy in making their appearance. And it is open 
to question if overmuch scrambling or picking one^s way 
should be looked upon as of the nature of salutary and 
wholesome discipline. The skin may harden and toughen 
till the delicacy of perception and touch suffers irretriev- 
ably: some mire, too, is apt to stick. 

And above all are these disastrous results to be appre- 
hended when the outset of life — childhood or youth — is 
subjected to ungenial conditions. This had been pre- 
eminently the case with Lady Christina Verney. 


6 MARRYING AND GIVINCt IN MARRIAGE. 

“So you are pleased? said Mr. Verney, rubbing his 
chin undecidedly, and staring into the fire. 

“ Pleased? I should think so. It is the very thing of 
all others I should have wished. It will bring you for- 
ward, Owen; there is no saying what it may not lead to. 
And — long ago I knew Paris so well — I shall be delighted 
to be there again, and above all to take Aveline.^^ 

“ You will miss the season here,^'’ remarked Mr. Ver- 
ney. He was far from a stupid man, but his wife puzzled 
him sometimes, well as he knew her, and he glanced up at 
her from under his shaggy fair eyebrows with a somewhat 
dubious expression. 

Lady Christina smiled in a superior way. 

“The season, my dear Owen,” she repeated. “You 
surely do not think so poorly of me as to imagine me one 
of those worldly minded women who would complain of 
missing the season when it is so clearly at the call of duty. 
Besides, we may make some pleasant acquaintances in 
Paris. My old friend Madame de Boncoeur will be de- 
lighted to introduce us; she’s in a very good set, I believe. 
It will do Aveline no harm to see a little French society, 
though I should not wish her to form intimacies exactly. 
I’hey look at things so differently from us ; in some ways 
there is so little sentiment about them. They are so prac- 
tical, so worldly.” 

“Humph,” said Mr. Verney, “the French have m 
trick of calling spades spades now and then. ” 

But he did not speak impressively, and his wife scarcely 
heard what he said. 

“ There is a coarseness about the French notwithstand- 
ing their surface refinement,” she agreed — she would have 
agreed with anything Mr. Verney chose to say that morn- 
ing. “ No, I shall discourage any intimacies certainly. 
But there may be some of our own English friends there,” 
she went on with an almost imperceptible change of tone, 
which did not, however, escape Mr. Verney. “ The Em- 


MARRl^IKG AKD GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


7 


bassy people of course we shall know, and my cousins, the 
Roslands, will be staying awhile on their way back from 
Cannes, and — oh, yes, by the bye, 1 heard from Lady Ayrton 
the other day that Sir Francis will not be able to return 
home for three months at least, and they hoped to be 
joined by theii son almost immediately. Poor Sir Francis, 
he has had a sad time of it. I shall be glad to cheer her a 
little, poor thing. " 

Mr. Verney did not answer. He was still staring into 
the fire, still rubbing his chin. 

“I wonder what Christina has got in her head,^^he 
was saying to himself; but outwardly he made no sign. 

“ It will cost us a lot of money,'^ he said at last, rous- 
ing himself; “ I was talking about it to Bart this after- 
noon.^^ 

“ Then if that is all Bart has to say on the subject he 
had better keep his remarks to himself,^' said Lady Chris- 
tina, with a slight touch of asperity. 

“ Come now, Christina, youh-e not fair on him. He 
didnT suggest the idea, he only agreed with me when I 
said so. On the contrary, poor fellow — but here Mr. 
Verney broke off, quickly resuming again — “ he was say- 
ing we might let this house. 

“ Of course we can let this house,^’ said Lady Christina; 
“ I do not need your brother to remind me of that.^^ 

This time the asperity was quite unconcealed. Mr. 
Verney wished he had refrained from quotations. 

He rose from his seat — a process which took some little 
time, for he was very tall and very spare, and his move- 
ments were deliberate — stretched himself as he stood on 
the hearth-rug, and seemed about to make up his mind to 
leave the room, when the door opened and a girl came in. 

“ Papa!^^ she exclaimed, “ I didnT know yon had come 
home. Are you busy?^ ^ she went on, glancing from tall, 
irresolute-looking papa on the hearth-rug to mamma, 
bright-eyed and energetic, already re-established at her 


8 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

writing-table with a jiile of notes and letters, of neatly 
docketed bills and tradesmen’s books, before her — how 
many thousand times in her life had not Aveline Verney 
seen her thus? — “ Are you talking? Shall I not stay?” 

“ We have finished talking,” said her father. 

Lady Christina said nothing. Five minutes before she 
had been in brilliant spirits, but somehow the mention of 
her brother-in-law had rubbed the bloom off her first pleas- 
ure. Still the stolid satisfaction was there, and it carried 
the day. 

“ No,” she said, after a minute’s silence, during which 
Aveline stood there uncertain, with an indefinite and not 
unpleasant feeling of expectancy. She was going to hear 
something; she scented it in the air. What could it be? — 
nothing bad surely. Papa and mamma did not seem an- 
noyed. “ No,” said Lady Christina, “ you need not go 
away. Owen, you had better tell her; she is no longer a 
child. At one-and-twenty,” with this time the very 
slightest shadowy hint of reproach in her voice, ‘ ‘ at one- 
and-twenty many a girl is at the head of a house. Tell 
her, Owen.” 

Then Aveline turned her inquiring gray eyes to her fa- 
ther. She was tall like him — tall and fair, but not spare, 
scarcely indeed to be called slight, but yet with a girlish 
litheness about her which accorded with the underlying ap- 
peal in eyes on the surface calm if not cold. 

Mr. Verney unfolded his lon^ length yet a little further, 
but slowly, as he prepared to speak. 

‘‘ I had a letter from Paris this morning, Ave,” he 
began. Then something caught his attention about tlie 
lower buttons of his waistcoat or his watch-chain; he 
frowned down at the misbehaving object and began disen- 
tangling it as if all else were unimportant. It was a 
peculiarity of Mr. Verney’s to stop short at the end of the 
first sentence whenever he had anything of interest to an- 


MARRYIl^G AKD GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


9 


nounce. Aveline knew this so well that her eagerness in- 
creased. 

From Paris/' she murmured, under her breath, and a 
faint color rose to her face. But aloud she said only one 
word — 

‘^Papa!" 

It pulled him together again, and the appeal, uppermost 
now in the girl's eyes, kept him to the point. 

“Yes, from Paris," he repeated, emphatically, as if 
Aveline had questioned his statement. “ I don't know if 
your mother told you that there was an idea, some time 
ago, of my undertaking a sort of — oh, you couldn't quite 
understand without a long explanation — a sort of mission 
there in connection with my department here. It will be 
a private arrangement — not coming much before the pub- 
lic. I thought it unlikely to go through, but to-day I have 
received the definite order of it, and I have accepted it. 
Your mother is pleased at it — and so are you — eh?" 

For the girl's face expressed unmistakable delight. 

“ Of course I am pleased, papa," she was beginning, 
but her mother interrupted. 

“ I don't think that is the question, Owen," she said. 
“ Aveline has, I think y been too well brought up to put 
her own personal likes or dislikes in the first place, when 
it is a matter of consequence for the whole family." 

“I didn't mean," began Aveline, timidly, glancing at 
her father, but he said nothing. “We shall all go to 
Paris,,! suppose?" she asked, this time speaking to her 
mother. 

Lady Christina turned to her husband. 

“ What are you thinking about the little ones?" she 
said. “ Of course Chris and Arthur will stay at school, 
but Leonora and the nursery children—?" 

“ They must all come," said Mr. Yerney, more decid- 
edly than he had yet spoken. “ At least I won't go with- 
out them." 


10 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

Then Aveline’s face, which had expressed suspense, grew 
completely sunny again. 

I don't know what I should have done without Leo," 
she said, but too low for her mother to hear. 

Mr. Verney was dining at his club that day. Lady 
Christina and her daughter were alone at table, and in such 
circumstances the dinner was of the simplest, for Lady 
Christina had not served her long apprenticeship to high- 
class poverty in vain. 

Mother and daughter spoke little, but Aveline was not 
uneasy. She saw that Lady Christina was silent from pre- 
occupation of mind only, and that, apparently, not of a 
disagreeable nature. There was no sensation of weight in 
the atmosphere, as of a storm brewing, such as the girl had 
learned to descry the premonitory symptoms of, and to 
dread. 

“ Poor mamma," she said to herself; “ no doubt she is 
counting over how many pairs of sheets and pillow-cases, 
and table-cloths, and tea-spoons will have to be packed up 
to take with us. I wish I cared more about things like 
that; if I did, perhaps we should get on better. I think I 
could fancy myself caring if — if I had a little house of my 
own, and somebody who thought I did things nicely, and — " 

A moment later her mother looked up sharply, and 
glanced across the table. Aveline felt herself blush. 

“ What are you thinking of, my dear?" asked Lady 
Christina. 

“A mixture of things, mamma," Aveline replied, 
truthfully. ‘‘Just at the very instant you spoke, I was 
thinking that mademoiselle has so often said that French 
pillows are a different shape from ours — she used to grum- 
ble at ours — and I was wondering if our pillow-cases would 
do." 

Lady Christina still looked at her daughter. 

“Was that really the only thing you were thinking 
about?" she said. 


MARRYING AND GIYING IN MARRIAGE. 11 

‘‘ Mamma!’’ exclaimed Aveline, “ do I ever tell what 
isn’t true? I didn’t say it was the only thing I was think- 
ing of — I said it was what I was thinking of at the instant 
you spoke.” 

“You are the very queerest mixture of a woman and a 
baby of any girl I have ever known,” said her mother. 
But her tone was not unamiable. 

Aveline smiled a little. 

“ Wasn’t my remark a practical one?” she said. 
“ Seriously, dear mamma, I do wish to be practical, and 
to help you more. You are always thinking and working 
for us. Wouldn’t it be a good time for me to begin taking 
more charge of things just now when we are going away?” 

“ No, my dear. It will be time enough when you have 
a house of your own to take charge of,” said her mother. 
And Aveline said no more, though she sighed a little. 

Lady Christina rose from table. 

“ I must go,” she said. I have several letters to write 
to-night. You needn’t cut that tart, Aveline, it will come 
in so well cold for luncheon to-morrow. If you haven’t 
had enough to eat you can have something later with tea. 
I shall want a cup of tea, for I shall be writing till late.” 

‘‘ I’ve had quite enough, thank you, mamma,” said 
Aveline, getting up in her turn. “ If you don’t want me 
I’m going to Leo in the school-room, and to say good-night 
to the little ones. ” 

So she went oif to the nursery, while Lady Christina be- 
took herself to her letters. 

But Aveline did not stay long with the younger children. 
She was eager to get to the school-room, where her sister 
Leonora was still busy at work preparing to-morrow’s les- 
sons. 

“ I’ve nearly finished, Aveline,” she exclaimed, as the 
elder girl came in. “ Wait two minutes only, and then 
we can talk. Papa is out, I know. ” 


12 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


“And mamma is busy. She doesiiH want me, said 
Aveline. “ I told her I was coming to you.^^ 

“ And we can talk comfortably/’ said Leo; “ I am so 
glad. I have such lots to say.” 

“ Finish your lessons first/’ said Aveline. 

She seated herself on the least uncomfortable of the 
school-room chairs, and drawing it toward the fire sat gaz- 
ing into it, like her father. She was very like him as she 
sat thus, and Leo, darker and more energetic, hurrying to 
get her work done, peering with bent brows into diction-' 
aries and grammars, reminded one forcibly of Lady Chris- 
tina engrossed by her accounts. Yet in spite of difference 
of feature and complexion, that much-discussed outward 
expression of affinity, that commonly called “ family ” 
likeness, was strong and unmistakable between the sisters. 
“There!” exclaimed Leonora, collecting her books and 
papers, and piling them neatly together as she spoke; 
“ there, now I’ve done. Mamma will be more particular 
than ever about my French now that we are going to Paris. 
I do so want to hear all about it, Aveline. Papa only told 
me a veiy little — he said I might ask you. Are we going 
soon? Aren’t you awfully pleased, Ave? Ave, sha’n’t 
we see Mr. He re ward there?” 

“Yes, I suppose so,” said Aveline, somewhat impa- 
tiently. “You run on so quick, Leo, you confuse me. I 
wish you would talk of one thing at a time. We shall see 
lots of people, no doubt; I wish you were a year, or a year 
and a half, older — if you were seventeen, perhaps mamma 
would let you go out a little. It would be so nice. I 
should like it so much more if I had you to think about, 
and to talk it all over with afterward.” 

“ We do the ‘ talking over afterward ’ pretty well as 
things are,” said Leo. “ And it is no use dreaming of my 
coming out till you are married, Ave. Mamma would not 
hear of it. So I hope you will take pity on me before long. ” 


MARRYIKG AKD GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


13 


Aveline sat silent for a few moments. Then she said, 
rather abruptly: 

“ I know mamma would like me to be married. I 
sometimes wish it could be all settled, and that I could 
just be told I must do it — that it would be right. I donT 
know that mind much.'’^ 

WouldnT you just?'^ said Leonora, with school-boy 
emphasis, which she had caught from her brothers. 
“ When it came to the point, and you found out that you 
didn't like the man — " 

‘‘No," persisted Aveline, speaking more eagerly than 
her wont. “ I don't think I should mind. It would be a 
satisfaction to think one was pleasing one's family, and — " 

“ Suppose it was a really horrid man?" Leo interrupted. 

“No good parents would want their daughter to marry 
a horrid man," said Aveline. 

“ But if you couldn't like him?" 

“ If one was quite sure one couldn't marry anybody one 
did like, or might have liked," said Aveline, vaguely, “ I 
don't know that one would much mind." 

Leonora looked at her reproachfully. 

“ When you talk that way you're not at all like a 
heroine — and I like yon to be a heroine," she said. 

“ I never could be one," said Aveline, smiling. “ But 
sometimes I think I should be glad to please mamma at 
almost any cost," and the girl sighed a little. 

Leonora hesitated before she spoke again, and when she 
did it was almost in a whisper. 

“ Aveline," she said, “ when you speak of knowing you 
can't possibly marry any one you like, are you— don't be 
vexed with me — are you thinking of Mr. Hereward?" 

“Oh, Leo!" said Aveline; “you are rather tiresome. 
Why do you keep on always about Mr. Hereward? I'm 
sure I have told you about plenty of other men I have 
met. " 

“ Yes," said Leo, composedly; “ you have, certainly. 


14 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAG 


But many of them I never saw, and those I did see never 
took any notice of me. But he always did — he was so nice 
when he came to call on Sundays if ever I was in the draw* 
ing-room. Don^t you remember, Aveline?'^ 

‘‘ Tve been trying to forget about him,^^ the elder sister 
answered, naively. “ I dare say I should almost forget 
him in awhile if I never saw him again. I think I shall 
be sorry if he is still in Paris when we go, for if he is I can 
hardly help seeing a good deal of him. Mamma likes him 
and she is sure to ask him. He would be useful to her, I 
dare say. 

“Yes,’^ said Leonora. Then she, too, sat silent for a 
few moments. “ I don^t think I want to be grown-up, 
and come out, and all that,^^ she remarked, gravely, at 
last. “ Life is very difficult for girls, I think. 

Well, perhaps then you can understand a little what I 
mean about Prench girls, said Aveline. Life can not 
be so difficult for tliemJ’ 

“ IM like to know how they feel about it,^^ said Leo. 
“ Do you think we shall get to know any, well, Aveliner^^ 

Aveline shook her head. 

“ I don’t in the least know how mamma intends to do,” 
she replied. “ She has some old. friends in Paris, but I 
don’t know if we shall know much of them.” 

Leonora was by this time ensconced on the hearth-rug, 
her head leaning on her sister’s knee. 

“ What are you thinking about?” said Aveline. 

The child — for she was scarcely more— sat up and 
looked at her sister. 

“ I don’t quite know,” she said, shaking her dark curly 
hair out of her eyes and smiling a little. I think I was 
thinking what things I’d wish for if a fairy gave me some 
wishes.” 

“It’s no use thinking of such things,” said Aveline. 
“ There are no fairies and no wishes, and not much good 
luck. Still there are some nice things sometimes. I’m 


MAERYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


15 


glad we^re going to Paris — at first I was exceedingly glad, 
and then when I began thinking about it I was not sure 
about it. But on the whole I think I am. I am so thank- 
ful we are all going, Leo. It would have been dreadful if 
you had been left behind. 

“ But mamma never thought of that, did she?^^ said 
Leo, looking startled. 

Papa didn\” said Aveline. “He said he wouldn^t 
go without you and the three little ones. And mamma is 
so anxious to go that she won^t make any difiiculties about 
anything. 

“ Is she so pleased about it?^^ said Leo. 

“ Very. I can see that she is. I wonder why — it will 
give her a great deal of trouble, and we shall miss the sea- 
son here,^^ said Aveline. “ I suppose she will like to see 
some of her old friends again — she always says she was very 
happy in Paris when she was a girl. I think we^d better 
go to her now, Leo; she must have finished her letters, I 
should think, ” and Aveline got up as she spoke. 

“ I^m going to bed,^^ said Leo; “ I^m not dressed, and 
I^m sleepy. Good-night, Av6 — if mamma asks for me, 
tell her I was doing my lessons till late, and so I thought 
I’d better gt) to bed.” 

Lady Christina was still writing when Aveline went into 
the drawing-room. 

“ Is that you, Aveline?” she said, with a slight touch of 
impatience. “I haven’t finished my letters yet. Get a 
book, and don’t speak to me just yet.” 

“ I wonder what mamma has so much to write about. 
I wish she would let me help her, ” thought the girl to her- 
self. But she sat down quietly, and either read or pre- 
tended to do so, till at last Lady Christina rose, with a sigh 
half of relief, half of weariness, two or three letters ready 
for posting in her hands. 

“ Eing, Aveline,” she said; “ I will send these to-night,” 
she added, half speaking to herself, “ even though it is 


16 


MARRyiTs^^G AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


late. They may catch an early mail/^ and when the serv- 
ant came into the room she told him to post them at once. 

“Will you have a great deal to do about our going to 
Paris, mamma?^^ asked Aveline. 

“ Naturally/^ said her mother; “ a family like ours 
caiPt be moved without a good deal of trouble. But as 
it is so clearly for — for your father’s good, we must not 
mind the trouble.” 

“ Shall we know many people there?” asked Aveline. 
“ Shall we go out a good deal?” 

“I hardly know,” said her mother. “Of course we 
must go out, though probably not as much as here. But I 
should like you to see something of French society, though 
I should not care for you see much of it. And there will 
j)robably be some of our English friends there — the Ros- 
lands and the Ayrtons certainly. ” 

“ Oh, mamma, not that horrid Wilfred Ayrton; it will 
quite spoil Paris if he is there. ” 

“ Aveline, I am ashamed of you,” said Lady Christina; 
“ you are really past the age for talking so childishly. You 
know very well that I am exceedingly fond of the Ayrtons. 
They have been very steady and kind friends to me for 
many years, and it isn’t right to dislike a man just because 
he is — well, perhaps a little slow and heavy, and not par- 
ticularly good-looking.” 

“ It isn’t for that I dislike him, mamma. He is so very 
selfish and — and coarse somehow. It isn’t only that he is 
stupid.” 

“ How often have you seen him to enable you to form 
such a matured opinion of him, may I ask?” said Lady 
Christina, icily. 

“ Oh, mamma, don’t be vexed with me. I’ve only seen 
him two or three times, I know. But what does it matter? 
I do think Lady Ayrton’s very nice and kind, and I’ll like 
her as much as you wish. And it is she that is your old 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


17 


friend, not that — not her son — so you needn^t be vexed with 
me,^^ and Aveline leaned over her mother to kiss her. 

The kiss was not repelled; caresses were somewhat rare 
in the Verney family — perhaps Lady Christina appreciated 
Aveline^s kiss more than she would have thought it wise 
to allow, perhaps she had her own reasons for not wishing 
to rouse discussion or disagreement on the subject of Mr. 
Wilfred Ayrton. Be that as it may, she permitted, if she 
did not return, her daughter's kiss; and there was even an 
approach to a smile on her face as she replied, 

“ I am not vexed with you, my dear. I am very tired, 
and I have a great many things on my mind. I suppose 
it is impossible for a girl of your age quite to enter into all 
I have to think about. But don’t get into the habit of 
taking up foolish prejudices, whatever you do, Aveline. 
There is nothing more fatal to a girBs success in life.^^ 

“ One can’t help knowing whom one likes and dislikes, 
mamma,” objected Aveline. 

“ Yes; but in many cases it is right to keep one’s mind 
and judgment in abeyance, as it were, and still more, to 
have some respect for the judgment of others — of one’s 
parents, for instance. And Where your opinion of any one 
in particular has not been asked — ” 

“ You don’t see that I need give it,” said Aveline, 
laughing. “ Very well, mamma, I won’t obtrude my likes 
and dislikes, and I’ll try not to be prejudiced. Now, isn’t 
that good of me? What could I say more?” 

The fair, smiling face was irresistible. Lady Christina 
herself was the one to volunteer a kiss this time. 

Good-night, my dear,” she said; and as Aveline left 
the room, ‘‘lam sure I only wish for her good,” she added 
to herself. 


18 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


CHAPTEE 11. 

When one is still very glad of good fires in London — 
when it is indeed still so cold that it is difficult to imagine 
the time will ever return when a good fire will be no longer 
the best thing in life — there are, nevertheless, as everybody 
believes and as many people know for themselves, places 
where already it is almost overpoweringly hot. Pau is one 
of those places. All of a sudden some spring morning the 
sun bursts out with extraordinary vigor; the short season 
of sharp, biting cold seems like a dream, and one has to 
look at the dates of the newspapers or of one’s letters to 
make sure that it is only March or April and not August. 

On such a day, about four in the afternoon, one of the 
letters — the principal one indeed — that Lady Christina Ver- 
ney had written on the evening after her husband’s ac- 
ceptance of the Paris appointment, reached its destination. 
This was the sitting-room of a handsome suite on the first 
fioor of the Hotel Beau Soleil. The person to whom the 
letter was addressed was standing near the window, beside 
which an invalid-couch Was drawn up. A gentleman, 
elderly if not old, lay on the couch. At the moment the 
servant came into the room he was speaking in a rather 
querulous tone to the lady beside him. 

“ Away for the day, you think? It is very inconsiderate 
of him. I never see him. I might Just as well have no 
son. But it must be your fault, Sopliia — you have not the 
knack of attracting him to stay at home as other mothers 
manage to do. It is very hard upon me — this wretched 
health and everything — Wilfred first of all — going to the 
dogs.” 

Lady Ayrton moved to her husband with some words of 
apology or deprecation on her gentle, faded face. 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


19 


“I’m sure I’m as sorry about it as you can be, Francis. 
I would do anything to — ” 

But the welcome words “ A letter, my lady,” interrupted 
her. 

“ A letter from Christina Verney. I am glad of that,” 
she exclaimed. “ I hope there will be something to amuse 
you in it, ” and she sat down as she spoke and began to 
open it. 

“To amuse me,” grumbled Sir Francis; “not very 
likely. This outrageous heat, joined to all my other dis- 
comforts, is enough to send me out of my mind or into my 
grave at once.” 

But all the same he watched his wife’s face with in- 
terest as she read quickly down the first page of the letter 
and eagerly turned it without speaking. 

“ Well — what is it? What are you smiling about like a 
— what is there in the letter? Can’t you speak, Sophia?” 

“Oh, I beg your pardon!” she exclaimed. “I quite 
forgot you were waiting. I am so very pleased, Francis. 
The Verneys will be in Paris when we get there. Mr. 
Verney has to be therefor some months, as Christina spoke 
of some time ago, and they are all going over.” 

“ Is that all there is in the letter? I don’t see that it 
matters much to us — I like Verney well enough, but I 
don’t particularly care about him. I really thought there 
was some pleasant news for once,” growled Sir Francis. 

“It isn’t ^mpleasant,” said poor Lady Ayrton; “you 
have often said you liked both Christina and her daughter. 
The pretty, fair girl, you remember?” 

“ Yes — she’s not a bad sort of girl. Quiet and nice- 
mannered, not one of those dreadfully noisy creatures you 
see so many of nowadays. If we had had a daughter like 
that now — but no doubt if we had had a daughter we 
should have had no more satisfaction out of her than we 
have out of that precious son of yours,” said Sir Francis, 
waxing bitter over the imagihary daughter’s deficiencies. 


20 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

“ Wilfred may marry/^ began Lady Ayrton, “ some 
one whom you would really like, and — 

‘^I pity his wife,^^ said Sir Francis. “I may be a 
selfish valetudinarian myself — I^m not going to defend my- 
self — but, upon my soul, Sophia, my wife is not to be 
pitied in comparison with Wilfred^s, should she ever come 
to exist. At his age I had some generosity, some chiv- 
alry, some ambition — but Wilfred — and the invalid 
gave a gesture of disgust. 

Lady Ayrton looked distressed. 

“I think you are hard upon him,^^ she said, timidly. 
“ All young men — 

“ Don^t talk twaddle, Sophia,^ ^ interrupted Sir Francis, 
testily. “ You know in your heart that what I say is true. 
You\e got some scheme in your head, I suppose — some 
plan for marrying your precious son and reforming him — ” 

“My dear Sir Francis, I do beg you not to^ use such 
strong expressions,^^ said Lady Ayrton, more resolutely 
than she had yet spoken. “ Any one overhearing you 
would think Wilfred was a perfect reprobate.^’ 

“ And they wouldn’t be far wrong, said her husband. 
“ Nevertheless, I’m not publishing my opinion to the 
world. There is no one to overhear what I say. And I 
have no wish to interfere with your plans — if you can get 
him married to any decent girl I am sure I shall have no 
objection. It would be a great relief not to have him 
always loafing about us. ” 

“ And not five minutes ago you were complaining that 
he never comes near you,” said Lady Ayrton, with some 
spirit. “ Eeally, Sir Francis — ” 

“ Tut, tut, my dear. I’m not going to defend myself. 
Drop the subject, for Heaven’s sake; we always quarrel 
when we talk about Wilfred— and no wonder. There is 
certainly nothing very agreeable to be said about him.” 

The subject in question was not fated to be so easily 


MARRYIKG AKB GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


21 


dropped, for at that moment Mr. Wilfred Ayrton in per- 
son entered the room. 

“ Good-morning, sir. How^re you getting on to-day 
And then, ^without waiting for an answer, “ It^s confound- 
edly hot; can^t we get away from this beastly hole, moth- 
er? There^s not a breath of air in the place. 

Sir Francis looked at him without speaking; then he 
turned to his wife. 

“ Will you be so good as to give me my book?^^ he said 
to her, coldly but civilly. It was one of his peculiarities 
always to speak civilly to his wife in his son^s presence. 

Lady Ayrton handed him the book; then got up and 
crossed the room to the further window — the letter which 
had drawn forth the discussion with her husband still in 
her hand. Mr. Ayrton followed her. 

“ WhaFs the matter with him to-day he said, in a 
whisper, though not so low but that, had he been particu- 
larly anxious to do so. Sir Francis might have heard his 
words. Not much inducement for a fellow to try to 
please a surly old — ” 

‘‘ Wilfred, said his mother, with a warning glance. 

Well, I want to talk to you, mother. Will you come 
out? The band^s playing, and those girls that arrived last 
night are sure to be at it. I want to see them — I rather 
fancy they^re good fun. I only came in because you^re 
always bullying me about being civil to the guv^nor, and I 
didiiT exactly want to get further into his black books at 
present. 

Lady Ayrton sighed. 

“ Is it about money again, Wilfred ?^^ she asked. 

“ I donT see what else it^s likely to be about, was the 
gruff reply. ‘‘ I^m not going to stand this doling out 
money to me when I know that there^s plenty. I’m five- 
and-twenty — it must all come to me sooner or later, and 
it’s downright absurd that I should be kept as short as a 
school-boy. ” 


22 


MAKRYIN^G AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


Lady Ayrton did not answer. She glanced at Sir Fran- 
cis — he seemed to be falling asleep. 

“We can talk better outside,^' she said. “I will go 
with you to the band. Wait for me at the door of the 
hotel. Your father is asleep, I think. 

Five minutes later the mother and son were on their 
way to the “ Place/’ where at a certain time of day,|in fine 
weather, many of the visitors assemble. Mr. Ayrton had 
not apparently recovered his good temper. His face, at 
the best of times heavy and stolid in expression, looked 
sulky and forbidding; his short, thickset figure was not 
rendered more graceful by a certain lifting of the shoulders 
peculiar to him when displeased. Lady Ayrton, whose 
proportions were far from sylph-like, whose fat, fair face 
could scarcely be called interesting, seemed attractive and 
agreeable in the extreme when compared with her unlovely 
son. She had in her time been a pretty girl; a more 
genial and active life might have left her still a pretty 
woman. Sir Francis, on his side, had been remarkably 
handsome, and, intellectually speaking, a man of parts; 
why Wilfred should be what he was, was a problem over 
which his father sneered in his cynical moods, and groaned 
at those times when physical suSering left not even 
strength to be cynical. 

The pair walked on for some little way in silence. Sud- 
denly Mr. Ayrton gave an exclamation. 

“There they are! Look, mother — those people on the 
other side. The one in that green-and-gold dress is the 
best-looking, and the jolliest too, 1 fancy.” 

Lady Ayrton raised her eyeglass and looked languidly 
across the street. 

“ Americans, I should say,” she replied; “ I never can 
admire Americans, Wilfred. They may be handsome, but 
they are such very bad style.” 

Wilfred’s face grew sulky again. 

“ Sure not to admire anything that takes my fancy,” 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 23 

he muttered. Aloud he said, ‘‘ What sort of girl do you 
admire? There ^s not a decent-looking one here that IWe 
seen."^^ 

“ No," agreed his mother, ‘‘ I havenT seen many this 
year. Perhaps we shall be more fortunate in Paris, Wil- 
fred. I hope to meet some old friends there. I have had 
letters to-day. 

Wilfred did not seem particularly interested. 

‘‘ If it^s anything to hasten our leaving this place 1 shall 
thank my stars," he said. “ I couldnT have stood it till 
now if I hadn^t been hard up. " 

“ How are you hard up?^^ asked his mother. “ Your 
allowance is a magnificent one, Wilfred; for a man alone I 
don T see that you could wish for more. " 

Mr. Ayrton grunted. The best part of him came out 
when he got his long-suffering mother to himself. At 
least he was sure of being listened to and not sneered at 
with caustic bitterness which he felt though he scarcely 
understood the keenness of its edge. 

‘‘ I dare say youTe right," he said, speaking, for him, 
gently. “ But I do wish for more all the same. I We no 
one to care what I do or how I live when I^m not with you, 
and I canT stand my father for long. And so I get into 
all sorts of things — things it’s no use telling you about — 
and then my money goes. I wish you’d made a soldier of 
me, or a sailor, or a backwoodsman, mother. I’d may be 
have been good for something.’’ 

“You might have been in the army — your father had 
no objection — if you would have worked,’’ said his mother, 
regretfully. “ The diplomatic service was what we 
wished, you know. ’’ 

“ Oh, that’s rot," said Mr. Ayrton; “ I never could 
have stood the work, even if I could have got into it. 
AVhat’s the good of being rich if one’s to grind away like 
that?" 


24 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE, 


“ I was only taking up your own words — about wishing 
you were good for something/^ said Lady Ayrton. 

“ But the point to attend to at the present moment is 
about my getting the money I want/^ said Wilfred. 

“ The getting it for you will fall upon me as usual, I 
suppose, replied his mother, “and I am by no means 
sure that I shall succeed. Your father is growing tired of 
it, Wilfred; and so am I, Things can not go on like this. 
We must come to some sort of understanding.^^ 

“ I donT know what you mean,^^ said Mr. Ayrton, sulk- 
ily. “ It must be all mine some day. Other fellows 
would have got all they wanted long ago, considering that 
— that’s one thing I ImvenH done, but there’s no saying 
what I mayn’t be driven to.” 

“ Driven to ruin yourself, you mean, Wilfred,” said his 
mother. “ It’s no use talking to you about breaking my 
heart and your father’s, but you can not be completely in- 
different about your own future.” 

“ ’Pon my soul, I don’t know but what I am,” replied 
he, kicking some pebbles with his foot as he spoke. 

Lady Ayrton took no notice of this ejaculation. They 
had reached the Place by this time, but they were still at 
some little distance from the more crowded part where the 
band was playing. An empty bench under some trees was 
near them. 

“ Let US’ wait here a moment or two,” she said, sitting 
down. “ There is something I want to say to you. You 
can surely give me your attention for five minutes — you 
can find out the American beauties afterward,” she went 
on, bitterly; for though Mr. Ayrton had sat down beside 
her, she saw that his eyes were roving here, there, and 
everywhere, in search, doubtless, of the green-and-gold 
costume. 

“ I’m quite willing to give my attention,” he replied, 
p,rranging his silver-mounted walking-stick so as to be able 


MARRYIl^G AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


25 


comfortably to suck the great knob at the top bet'preen 
times as a little refreshment. 

Lady Ayrton, sat silent for a moment, looking before 
her. The beautiful sunlight glimmered through the trees 
overhead, their leaves casting strange fantastic net- works of 
shadow on the hot gravel beneath. The clear voices of 
some birds twittered cheerily close at hand, while the 
music of the band sounded pleasantly soft in the distance. 
A pretty, bright-eyed girl of seventeen or so, passing at 
this moment with her mother, glanced at the two on the 
bench, and a slight expression of surprise crossed her face. 

‘ ‘ How can people look so gloomy when everything is so 
delicious?^^ Lady Ayrton heard her say. 

The poor lady sighed, but the remark had aroused her. 

“ Wilfred, she began. Mr. Ayrton left off sucking 
his cane for a moment, and gave a slight nod to indicate 
that he was not asleep. 

“ Fire away,^^ he said, lazily. 

“ Wilfred, she went on, “ what should you think of 
marrying?'’^ 

Mr. Ayrton started slightly — started and then frowned. 
“ Awkward, rather,^ ^ he muttered to himself, but his 
mother did not hear the words. 

“ DonT see the use of it,^^ he said, aloud. 

“ It would please your father, it would please me/^ she 
continued, her voice trembling a very little with the last 
words. It might be the beginning gf a new life for you. 
Your father would pay your debts again, I feel sure, if you 
married to his satisfaction, and you might start clear on 
an income more than sufficient for every comfort and lux- 
ury you could wish. And, you say you have no one to 
care for you, Wilfred, can you not imagine yourself caring 
for and being cared for by a good and sweet girl?^^ 

Mothers are proverbially partial; Lady Ayrton had cher- 
ished her maternal illusions with exaggerated solicitude, 
even while refusing to own to herself the frailty of their 


2G MAKRYING AND GIVING IN MATIRIAGN. 

origin, but yet, as the words “ a good and sweet girl 
crossed her lips, she hesitated and faltered. Mr. Ayrton 
was not looking his best at that moment. His face had 
darkened again, his shoulders were up above his ears — he 
was not an attractive object, to put it very mildly. His 
sullen-looking mouth was firmly shut, and he gave no 
signs of intending to open it. 

“ Wilfred,^ ^ said his mother, after a little pause. 

“ What is it?^' he said, without moving. 

“ You might answer me.^' 

“ l\e nothing to say. I don^t want to marry; I only 
want to get the money I need, and to be allowed to do as I 
choose. 

“ Well, then,^^ said his mother, suddenly rising to her 
feet and speaking with a strength and decision quite new 
to her in her son^s experience, I wash my hands of you. 
I shall not ask nor advise your father either to increase 
your income or to pay your debts. I am tired out by you, 
Wilfred — I can do no more.’^ 

But even while she spoke her voice broke a little — tears 
were not far off. Mr. Ayrton seized his advantage. 

“ Don’t excite yourself so, mother,” he said, putting 
out his hand and drawing her down again on to the bench. 
“ You shouldn’t be so vivacious just because I didn’t jump 
up and say I’d rush off to the unknown young woman on 
the spot. I need to think it over, surely. In the first 
place, who is she? I know you’ve some one in your head. 
Sit down now and tell me all about her, and let’s talk it 
over comfortably. Who is she? Out with it. Who is 
she?” 

Lady Ayrton swallowed down the lump in her throat— 
she had lived to be thankful to Wilfred for small mercies. 
She cleared her voice before she replied. 

“ You scarcely know her— the— the girl I should like 
you to marry. But you have seen her and you have seen 
her people. My very old and dearest friend is her moth- 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 27 

er. I mean Lady Christina Verney. The girl I am 
thinking of ia her daughter Aveline.^^ 

Mr. Ayrton gave a low whistle. “That girl/^ he 
ejaculated; “ she^s got no tin. 

Lady Ayrton repressed a slight gesture of disgust. 
“Oh, Wilfred, she said, “is there nothing better than 
that in you — nothing of what I hoped for when you were a 
little innocent baby? Do you not care for anything except 
money?'^ 

“ It isn’t money I care for — it’s what it does. There’s 
no getting on without it. And I don’t see that it would 
mend matters for me to burden myself with a wife and 
family,” he replied, half sulkily and half with a clumsy 
attempt at jocularity. 

“ You said something about having no one but me to 
care for you. Would you not like to have a wife who 
would care for you? And if you married to please him, I 
— I scarcely like to say so much — but I think your father 
would do a great deal. He might even give you the 
Garthdean property at once, and you know that brings in 
an income even you could not grumble at.” 

Wilfred’s small eyes sparkled. 

“ Garthdean,” he repeated, whistling again; “ Garth- 
dean! Do you really mean what you say, my lady?” his 
way of addressing his mother when in rare and high good- 
humor. “ Yes, that is worth thinking about, and no mis- 
take. But why have you both taken such a fancy to this 
girl? I don’t remember much? about her. She’s tall and 
fair-haired and very quiet — not much go in her. Isn’t 
that the girl?” 

“ She is an exceedingly good girl, very well brought up, 
and one that both your father and I could love as a daugh- 
ter,” replied Lady Ayrton. “ And the Verneys are poor 
— very poor — for their position; and, with their large fam- 
ily, they would be glad to have Aveline well settled, and — 


28 MARRYINTt and giving in marriage. 

I think she is the sort of girl to appreciate being chosen 
for herself. 

“ You mean that she^d think me disinterested, and all 
that sort of thing, if I chose her, when of course, if that 
Garthdean business is settled as you say, I could do so 
much better,^ ^ said Wilfred, coarsely. 

Ilis mother looked at him with again that painful sensa- 
tion of disgust. 

“ You could not do better, even according to your own 
very practical way of putting it,^^ she said, coldly. “ The 
Garthdean business, as you call it, will certainly depend on 
your readiness to please us in this matter of your mar- 
riage. ^ ^ 

Wilfred looked sulky again. 

“ I call that rather hard lines on a fellow, he said. 
But as his mother made no answer he added, after a mo- 
ment or two — “ 1^11 think about it. I dare say she’s not a 
bad sort of a girl.” Inwardly he said to himself, “ She’s 
a stupid, sleepy creature, I fancy. If she had a pretty 
house, and some old women and school-children to look 
after, I dare say she wouldn’t interfere. I’ll think it 
over,” he repeated, aloud. 

“ You will do well,” said his mother. Then she stood 
up and proposed to walk to that side of the Place whence 
the view is so beautiful and far-reaching. Wilfred for his 
part would have preferred mingling with the crowd, and 
passing the green-and-gold costume, but he thought it 
wiser to be conciliatory at the present juncture. And 
Lady Ayrton seemed readyto be more insistent than usual. 

“ If this is to be the turn with him,” she thought, with 
again a faint flutter of hope of better things in her faithful 
mother’s heart, “ I must keep him about me as much as I 
can. I should like people to notice it.” 

And she exerted herself to be lively and entertaining, 
smiling and even laughing a little when they met some of 
their acquaintance, so that more than one of the English 


MAKRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 29 

visitors remarked it, and said to themselves that it could 
not be true that Mr. Ayrton was so disreputable, his moth- 
er and he looked so happy together! 

But no one heard the deep sigh that she gave as she 
stood at last, with her gentle, tired face turned to the sky, 
against which the great snow-covered heights of the Pyre- 
nees shone out in pure, lonely majesty. 

“ Am I doing wrong?’ ^ she thought. ‘‘It is so diffi- 
cult to know. Heaven and pure disinterested goodness 
seem so far away, and life is so perplexing. Why was he 
not a girl? I might have succeeded better.” 

She glanced at her son as these thoughts passed through 
her mind. He was not even pretending to look at the 
magnificent panorama before him — his heavy-featured 
face, redder from the sunshine and the heat, was smihng 
half sulkily at the antics of some little dogs growling and 
snarling a few paces off, as he stood there, stolid, thick- 
set, and self-satisfied — of the earth, alas, and very earthy. 

“ I will go home now,” said Lady Ayrton, with a slight 
shiver, hot though it was. “ Come with me to the begin- 
ning of our street, Wilfred, and then you can return here, 
if you like.” 

Her spirits rose a little when she found herself alone 
again. After all, she had not altogether failed in her first 
attempt — she could write a cheerful and encouraging let- 
ter to “ Christina ” about her “ plans.” 

“ Dear Christina,” thought the poor woman to herself, 
“ how I wish she were here! Ho one can ever understand 
me and all my troubles as well as she does — ah, dear, she 
thinks want of money the worst trouble, but I can’t agree 
with her when I think of her children — those sweet girls, 
and her fine, intelligent, manly boys. ” 

A long letter was dispatched to London in answer to the 
one we have followed thence to its destination — a letter 
which Lady Ayrton greatly enjoyed writing, and which 


30 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


caused a smile of .pleasant expectation to light up the face 
of Aveline^s mother when she had read it. 

“ Notiling could promise better/^ she said to herself. 
‘ ‘ I felt sure Sir Francis would act liberally if the idea were 
really suggested. And, indeed, what could they wish for 
more? They donT need money — and one of my daugh- 
ters as his wife will be the very making of the young man. 
If I could but put a little more worldly wisdom, a little 
more practical common sense into Aveline — but it will 
come — doubtless it will come.^^ 


CHAPTER III. 

Mme. de Boncosur “ received on Sunday evenings. 
She begged her friends to come early: she was, so she said, 
“ old-fashioned in her ideas and past the age to remodel 
them. She was, in point of fact, a good deal older than 
she looked — old enough to be proud of the distinction of 
years, to be more inclined to add one on than to take one 
off, and to enjoy the look of incredulity with wliich stran- 
gers, especially if they were foreigners, received her an- 
nouncement of the sixty-nine “ winters she had seen. 

‘‘ Yes,’^ she would say, “ I have lived through many 
changes, outlived many good and some bad things, but the 
world has not grown cold to me yet. I speak of my ‘ win- 
ters ^ because the association better suits my white hair and 
my withered skin, not because I find the world wintery. 
Surely not; on the contrary, I am in no hurry to leave it, 
though that must be as the good God wills, of course. I 
live again in my children and my grandchildren and my 
great-grandchildren, the little dears. Yes, Jeanne has 
two boys, and her brother Severinus wife had her first 
child, a magnificent little girl, last month. My daughter's 
daughter is not yet married, a trifle difficult to please per- 
haps; but it will come all in good time; and, indeed, I 


MARRYIKG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 31 

scarcely know what I shall do without her when that day 
does come, my good little Modeste! But we parents must 
not be selfish: a bad thing to delay marriage too long, as I 
always remind my daughter De Villers. And Modeste is 
reasonable, in no way fantastic; it will be all right. 

So the old lady would chatter on, though even to her 
most intimate friends never too long or too exclusively on 
her own affairs, her bright eyes and pretty gestures en- 
hancing the charm of her conversation, so that after a first 
interview every one went away delighted, sure to remark 
to the first common acquaintance, ‘‘ How lovely Mme. de 
Boncceur must have been in her youth The delight re- 
mained, and usually deepened into hearty liking and es- 
teem, but the faith in her by-gone beauty had to be aban- 
doned. It was well known that as a young and even 
middle-aged woman the baronne had been rather remark- 
ably plain; as is the case in certain landscapes, the partial 
decay of late autumn had brought with it to her a beauty 
unknown to her summer or spring. 

Her daughter, Mme. de Villers, had been, and at forty- 
two still was, much handsomer than Mme. de Boncceur at 
her best. But, though handsome and amiable with the 
amiability of a somewhat self -concentrated and lethai-gic 
nature, she was without the elder lady^s “ charm, and, 
besides this, incontestably less intelligent. Modeste de 
Villers was as handsome as her mother, as bright and sym- 
pathetic as her grandmother, bidding fair, when time and 
experience should have matured her faculties, to be as in- 
telligent and cultivated. Already she had profited much 
by constant intercourse with Mme. de Boncceur, with 
whom, since the death of M. de Villers, she and her moth- 
er had almost entirely lived. 

It was a pleasant house to visit at — a convenient lounge 
of a Sunday evening for those who only cared to pass the 
time agreeably, a center of lively talk and varied opinions 
for the more active-minded. For Mme. de Boncceur, 


32 


MAKRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


“ old-fashioned though she liked to call herself, was not 
so in the narrow sense of the expression. Or, rather, per- 
haps it would be more correct to say, her “ old fashions,^ ^ 
the social opinions and creeds of the France of her day, 
were less narrow in some notable respects than those of 
more modern French society. 

To give but one instance in point. She had not preju- 
dice or prepossessions against foreigners, for in her youth 
the salons of Paris received and welcomed many of the 
most “ irreproachable ^ ’ families of the European upper 
classes. Foreign travel was not then a mere question of 
money, open to the all and sundry who can afford it. The 
rush of tourists, who, having spent six weeks in Switzer- 
land, steamed down the Kliine, and visited the Saint 
Chapelle guide-book in hand, thinking they had seen “ the 
Continent,'’^ was yet to come. And, still more important 
from the social point of view, there were in those days En- 
glish and other foreign families making their homes in 
Paris and other Continental towns for longer or shorter 
periods, whose reasons for thus pitching their tents in 
strange lands would bear inquiring into, without risk of 
some tragic or piteous or, still worse, scandalous revelation 
resulting therefrom. 

So Mme. de Boncoeur enjoyed the entertaining of stran- 
gers, and as her relations with English society dated back 
some one or two generations, so far nothing had shocked 
her delicate perceptions, or startled her into resolving that 
she must close her doors to her neighbors from across the 
Channel. 

Her salon is rather unusually crowded this Sunday even- 
ing on which we first visit it. The Paris season — earlier a 
few years ago than now — was at its height, and on tliis par- 
ticular Sunday the sudden collapse of one or two expected 
entertainments had left a good many people at a loss what 
to do with themselves. 

The buzz of talk was becoming bewildering, a few guests 


MAERTING AND GIVING IN irAERIAGE. 33 

were beginning to think of withdrawing, when the double 
doors again flew open to admit a tall young man, who at 
once made his way across the two rooms to the white- 
haired hostess. For a minute or two, busy talking to 
those near her, she did not see him. He stood waiting 
quietly, with a simple ease of bearing devoid of the slight 
awkwardness an Englishman usually feels and shows in 
such circumstances. Yet he was English — a glance at his 
figure, an instant^s gleam from his pleasant blue eyes, told 
the story, though his hair and complexion were dark 
enough to perplex those French critics who can only think 
of us as sandy or flaxen. And something too in his manner, 
a ready grace, a touch of respectful deference, as he gently 
took and bowed over the little thin old hand at last held 
out to him by Mme. de Boncoeur, was scarcely “ English.-’^ 
“ Welcome at last, dear sir,^^ said the old lady, cor- 
dially. “But you are very late! I hear — I am sorry to 
hear — that the serious illness of the old duke has stopped 
my cousin ^s ball this evening — so you mean to make up 
for your tardiness by staying later than you sometimes do, 
I hope.^^ 

“ I confess that idea has suggested itself to me, dear 
madame,'^he replied, with a smile, in fluent and almost 
accentless French. “ I should have come earlier had I 
been going on to the ball. As it was, I waited to finish 
some letters, counting on your well-known indulgence. 

“ Better late than never in your case assuredly,^'’ she an- 
swered. “ I particularly wished to see you. I have some 
news which will interest you, I think. Wait till the rooms 
are cleared a little, and then we can h^^ve our chat. There 
is my daughter, and Modeste. They will be as charmed 
as ever to see you.^^ 

And with a little wave of her hand the old lady sent him 
off to the other room, where Mme. de Villers and her 
daughter. were standing near the piano. 

“ By these ladies too, Mr. Here ward, for such was the 
2 


34 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

name of the young man, was cordially greeted, Mme. de 
Villers extending three fingers, and her daughter bowing 
with a pleasant smile. 

“ You have a very crowded reception this evening, he 
said to the elder lady. 

“ Yes,^^ she replied, “ there is nothing else to do, I sup- 
pose — ^two dances have fallen through, you know.^^ 

“ I know of one having done so,^^ Mr. Here ward said, 
“ but I hardly think that would make much difference to 
your salon, except that it may have allowed people to stay a 
little later — every one likes so much to come here. ” 

‘‘ And my mother likes to have them,^^ Mme. de Villers 
replied. “ The more crowded her rooms are, the better 
spirits she is in. I don't care so much for the world, I 
don't like the trouble of it. But I foresee that Modeste 
will be her grandmother over again. She takes so much 
interest in everything — she even says sometimes she would 
like to travel — to foreign countries, I mean," and Mme. 
de Villers opened her sleepy eyes to express her astonish- 
ment. “ I confess I don't understand that. We are fort- 
unate in making pleasant foreign acquaintances without 
leaving our own country." 

Mr. Hereward bowed in acknowledgment of the implied 
compliment. 

“ Modeste," continued her mother, ‘‘ is looking forward 
eagerly to making acquaintance with the daughters of an 
old friend of ours who is coming to Paris soon — Madame, 
or rather I suppose I should say, Miladi Christina Verney. 
I do not understand your English titles. Her husband, it 
appears, is only plain ‘ monsieur.' Do you know them?" 

Mr. Hereward had not been listening very attentively. 
Mme. de Villers' s voice was slightly monotonous, and it was 
in general quite easy to go on thinking of other things, 
while nominally, so to speak, engaged in conversation with 
her. His eyes had been wandering about, and just as she 
left off talking they had been caught by something in the 


MAKKYIHG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


35 


figure and pose of a tall girl at the other end of the room, 
which reminded him of some one else. 

“ If the hair were several shades fairer/^ he was saying 
to himself. “ The color of the hair makes a great differ- 
ence — the way it is done, and the shape of the head are 
very like. I wish she would turn this way. No, better 
not, perhaps, it would destroy the illusion. ” 

He started as Mme. de Villers touched him on the arm 
with her fan. 

“ What are you thinking of, my dear sir?’^ she said, 
smiling. “ Twice I have asked you if you know this En- 
glish family — these old friends of ours, and you don^t seem 
to hear.^^ 

Mr. Here ward colored to the roots of his hair. 

“ I beg your pardon — ten thousand pardons, he said. 
“ 1 am frightfully ashamed of myself. I did not catch the 
name you mentioned. Will you say it again 

It was true that Mme. de Villers^s French pronunciation 
of the name had prevented its attracting the young man^s 
attention. Even now she had to repeat it more than once 
before his slightly bewildered ears took it in. Then sud- 
denly his whole face lighted up. 

“ Verney, did you say, madame?’^ he repeated. “ Lady 
Christina Verney? Know them? — of course I know them 
very well indeed. Are they coming to Paris, did you say? 
I had not heard of it.-’^ 

“ I wonder you did not know. You in your official 
position should hear of such things sooner than any one, 
for this gentleman, it appears, is coming over — sent by your 
government, I suppose — on some mission, I don^t know 
what. Some financial matter between the two countries.^'’ 

Mr. Here ward ^s face cleared still further. 

Ah,^^ he said, “ I understand. I knew some one was 
coming over, but I did not' know Mr. Verney had been 
fixed upon. A very good choice, too. They will probably 
be here some time, then.^^ 


3G 


MAKRYING Al^D GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


“ 8ome months/’ said Modeste de Villers, who, though 
she had been standing near, had not yet spoken. “ I am 
so pleased, for I am sure these young ladies must be 
charming. Bonne maman says she is sure they are very 
well brought up.” 

Mr. Hereward smiled. It was not often he had heard 
Mile, de Villers say so much, for the typical French girl 
has far less to say for herself than our English maidens. 
Modeste spoke with a rather prim childishness, and yet 
quiet self-confidence, quite indescribable to those who do 
not know it. But it was quaint and pretty, especially as 
the girl herself was decidedly pretty, and had a soft and 
musical voice. 

The young Englishman’s smile somewhat disconcerted 
her. She blushed slightly, and a slight look of misgiving 
crossed her face. 

“ You smile, monsieur,” she said. “ Was it at any- 
thing I said:” 

“ Not at all,” said Mr. Hereward, hastily, a little 
ashamed of himself. Mme. de Villers, by this time 
fatigued by her unusual energy, had sunk into an arm- 
chair, from whence she could scarcely, through the music, 
hear what her daughter was saying. “ That is to say, 
there was nothing to cause a smile in what you said, made- 
moiselle. I smiled from several causes, but all pleasant 
ones. Among others I was picturing you and Miss Verney 
together. You would make a charming picture.” 

“How? Is she at all like me?” asked Modeste, with 
quiet girlish curiosity which made her manner more nat- 
ural. 

“ No, she is quite different. There would be the charm 
of contrast. She is exceedingly fair — fair even for an En- 
glish girl. Her sister, on the contrary, is as dark as you, 
mademoiselle.” 

“ Her sister — how old is she? Are there two grown-up 
daughters?” asked Modeste, 


MARBYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 37 

“ No, only one. The second one, Leonora, is quite 
young — fifteen, sixteen — I don^t know exactly. And there 
are several still younger boys and girls of all ages. But I 
do not know much of any of them, except — Mr. Here- 
ward hesitated, ‘‘except of Lady Christina, and — I used 
to meet Miss Verney, of course, at dances and evening 
parties. 

Mile, de Villers looked up at Mr. Hereward with a- 
peculiar expression in her brown eyes. It was not often 
that she talked so much to a young man — but this was an 
Englishman; that made all the difference. She had heard 
a good deal from her grandmother about English manners 
and customs, for Mme. de Boncoeur considered herself a 
great authority on the subject, and something in Mr. 
Hereward^s tone had suggested a vague suspicion that 
here might be one of the curious instances of young peor 
pie in England managing their own affairs, of which hints 
had reached her. Modeste felt suddenly venturesome. 

“Is Miss Verney pretty?^ ^ she asked, abruptly, still 
keeping her eyes fixed on the young diplomatist. 

“ Pretty, he repeated; “ no, mademoiselle, she is not 
pretty. I should rather say she was beautiful. 

“ Ah!^^ said Modeste, with a half -audible sigh of satis- 
faction. Her instinct had been right. There was a fiush 
of unusual color on the girl’s pale face as she turned away. 

“ I should like to marry some one who would speak of 
mem that tone,” she thought. “Monsieur Tercy St.- 
Ange would never have done so, I am sure. Yes, lonne 
maman, I am coming,” for her grandmother’s voice sum- 
moning her to her side sounded across the room. 

An hour later the salons were all but deserted. 

“ I shall hope to call on Friday ” (which was Mme. de 
Boncoeur ’s afternoon at home), said Mr. Hereward, as he 
approached his hostess to say good-night, “ and then, if 
you are less engaged, perhaps you will tell me about our 


38 


MAEEYING AND GIVING IN MAEEIAGE. 


friends’ coming. It is too late to-night — ^you, madame, 
must be tired. ” 

“ Not so tired as all that/’ said the bright old lady, 
motioning the young man to a chair by her side. “ Stay 
five minutes. What was it I wanted to say? Oh, yes. 
This good Christina has written to ask me to help her to 
find a house. But I am putting the cart before the horse, 
surely. And I told you the news that my friends — and 
your friends also, the Verney family — are coming to 
Paris?” 

“ You yourself had not told me, but I have just heard 
it from Madame de Villers,” he replied. 

‘‘ Ah, that is all right then. My old head is not as clear 
as it used to be. Miladi sends messages of remembrance 
to you in case I should see you. But I am quite embar- 
rassed about this question of a house. She says ‘ house,’ 
but she must mean an appartement, not a hotel. It is 
several years since she was in Paris — perhaps she forgets?” 

“ She must certainly mean an appartement,’^ answered 
•Mr. Here ward, with decision. “The Verneys are far 
from rich — they could not afford a hotel. And furnished 
hotels are not easy to find^ — as you know. Shall I look 
about a little — I had to do so for my sister last year — and 
report to you what I see? We are not very busy just 
now.” 

He spoke with an evident eagerness which did not escape 
the quick-sighted old lady. 

“ It is most amiable of you,” she replied. “ And you 
will probably know better than I, both what they want and 
what they can afford to give. I know all about English 
tastes and ways, of course — but you, having seen them all 
more recently, may be better acquainted with their par- 
ticular likes and dislikes. Then shall we leave it so? You 
will look about as you did for madame your sister, and you 
will report to me? And of course, if necessary, I or my 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


39 


daughter could go and see any appartement Yes — it is 
an excellent idea. ” 

There was an unmistakable tone of relief in the old 
lady^s voice which caused Mr. Here ward an invisible smile. 
He would have liked to lead her on to speak more of the 
Verneys, but he judged it wiser not to do so. 

“ There will be plenty of opportunity for my hearing all 
she has to tell,^^ he reflected, and for the moment he 
looked about for some other subject of conversation. 

“I did not see St.-Ange this evening, ^Mie said, sud- 
denly. ‘‘ He has been here so regularly of late that one 
misses him. ” 

“ Yes,^^ said Mme. de Boncoeur, composedly, “ we have 
seen a good deal of him this year. He is an excellent 
young man. He will be here again next week, I dare 
say.^^ She looked up at Mr. Here ward quickly as she 
spoke. Something in his expression decided her to say 
more. 

You have heard a rumor perhaps that he — that some- 
thing has been in question with regard to this gentleman 
and my little Modeste,-’^ he said. 

Mr. Hereward felt and looked slightly awkward. He 
had heard the rumor — had been indeed assured that it was 
more than a rumor. Mme. de Boncoeur smiled at his em- 
barrassment. 

“ Do not look so unhappy about it,^^ she said. ‘‘ You 
English do amuse me sometimes. It is the simplest thing 
in the world. I was only going to ask you, as you know 
several of Monsieur St. -Angers friends, to contradict it. 
It is always best to have no misunderstandings about such 
things. 

‘‘ Then it is certainly not to be?^"^ asked Mr. Hereward. 

“ Hot to be,^^ said the old lady. “ He is excellent, as I 
have said, and for many reasons we should have liked it. 
But they have seen enough of each other now to judge, and 
Modeste does not care for him.^^ 


40 


MARRYIITG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


“Andher^ 

“ He has never been sure enough of her to allow himself 
to get exceedingly attached to her. He would never care 
for any girl who did not really care for him. Perhaps it is 
that very want of fervor about him which has lost his 
chance. However, there is no harm done — far better than 
your English way of rushing into a thing without reflec- 
tion, and discovering the want of congeniality afterward. 

‘‘But, madame,^^ began the young man, eagerly, “I 
assure you — 

“ Ah, yes — ah, yes — I know what you would assure me! 
I have heard it all so often. That there are so many hap- 
py marriages in England, etc., etc. Well, so there are in 
France! Mind, I speak of the present day. I am' not so 
wedded to the past as to defend the old system, which you 
English still believe in as devoutly as many French believe 
that you all 'still dine like Germans at one o^ clock, and that 
nothing is to be seen on your tables but half-i*aw roast 
beef!^^ 

“ I have not found the French so ignorant, said Mr. 
Hereward, with a smile. 

“ Perhaps not, because you have known principally those 
of Paris, the most cosmopolitan capital in the world; still 
more, your acquaintances are not only of the quite upper 
classes, but many of them people of the day — who can not 
be so ignorant. But wait till you know some of our 
regular old country families — people who never leave their 
chateaux. Then talk of ignorance.^’ 

“ It is much the same in all countries, I suppose,^’ he 
replied. “It is astounding how little we know of each 
other when one considers that a mere strip of water sepa- 
rates us physically. And though we English travel so 
much more, I doubt if we know much more of the 'peo'ple 
of other nations, speaking generally, than they know of us. 
We see the places, but that tells nothing of the home life. 

“You know less of us in that sense than we know of 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 41 

you," said Mme. de Boncoeur, decidedly. “Your novels, 
even though so seldom to be compared with ours as works 
of art, can be and are far more widely read by foreigners 
than ours, and their constant theme is English home life. 
Then, too, you are so much more quickly hospitable than 
we. Such of us as do go to England are at once admitted 
into the real family life, whereas it is not one foreigner in 
a hundred, nay, in a thousand, that really sees our inner 
circles. " 

“You have thought a great deal about it,"' said Mr. 
Ilereward, admiringly. 

Nigel Hereward^s head was rather in a whirl as he made 
his way home. “ I have no reason to suppose it will hurt 
any one but myself, he reflected, “ and that^s my own 
affair. I may go on scorching my wings if I like. Were 
it otherwise," he hesitated, “in that case I’d try to get 
away from Paris before they come. I’d do anything rather 
than risk suffering for lier. But her mother is a sensible 
woman, and she has never seemed to mind throwing us to- 
gether; she must know her own child, and, of course, she 
knows I canH dream of marrying for years and years, if, 
indeed, ever. No, I don^t see but that I may make my- 
self miserable with a clear conscience — it^s no one else^s 
business. Dear me, how little I imagined when I went to 
Madame de Boncoeur’s to-night what I was going to 
hear!" 

lie stood still on the bridge — he was just then crossing 
the river from the old street where he had spent the even- 
ing on his way to the Champs-Elysees quarter where he 
lived. The stars in the cloudless sky overhead were re- 
flected in the clear dark water below, the fresh night air 
seemed unusually reviving and inspiriting*; everything 
spoke to him of hope and happy augury. It is so easy at 
five-and-twenty to think that one^s wildest dreams may be 
I’ealized. 

“ Who knows," thought Nigel to himself, o-s he at last 


43 


MAREYIKG AKD GIYIKG IK MARRIAGE. 


walked on, ‘‘ who knows what may turn up? My great- 
uncle Fortescue may leave me a legacy after all, or 
Koderick^s babies may all die of the croup — nay, what a 
shame of me to think of such a thing even in joke!^^ 

And with a laugh he stepped on lightly. 

There was a letter on his table when he let himself in — a 
Jetter from his step-sister. He ran through it hastily; it 
contained nothing of much interest. J3ut as a postscript, 
she had added, I hear Sir Francis and Lady Ayrton and 
their son are going to stay in Paris on their way home. 
Be civil to them, as they are neighbors of ours.^^ 

‘‘That little beast ejaculated Nigel. “I wonder if 
he^s improved since the licking Seaforth and I gave him 
at school as a finish up. If not — I certainly pity his be- 
longings.^^ 


CHAPTER IV. 

It was April— to my mind, if the weather be fine, the 
prettiest month of the year in Paris — when the Verneys 
arrived there. And the weather was fine, peculiarly so; 
and not Paris only, but the world and life in general, 
seemed very bright and attractive to Aveline and her sister 
Leonora the first morning they awoke to find themselves 
across the channel. 

“ IsnT it nice? I wish I might say jolly, but I darenT, 
said Leo, as she and Aveline stood at the open window, 
from which by craning their necks just a little they could 
see into the Champs-Elysees. “ IsnT it nice to see the 
sun shining so, and— and — to have no governess?’^ 

Aveline laughed. 

“ Yes/’ she replied, “ it’s very nice for us any way, Leo. 
I"m afraid papa and mamma have had a good deal of 
worry. ” 

Tills was true. There had been a dark side to this sil- 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


43 


very vision of coming to Paris. Mr. Verney had had to 
work a good deal harder than he was fond of doing in get- 
ting up -the statistics and technical knowledge requisite' for 
a thorough mastery of the tangled question he was to set 
to rights. For though he had an excellent head on his 
shoulders, he was constitutionally indolent. And Lady 
Christina, who could certainly be accused of no such weak- 
ness, had been driven nearly wild by the discussion of ways 
and means necessitated by the family flitting. Paris and 
its ways had changed since the days of her youth; and even 
had it not been so, the views or no views of a young lady 
in her fathers house apropos of rent and wages, of 
butchers and bakers and coals, differ materially from the 
painfully minute consideration of such subjects forced 
upon the mother of a large family; above all, if she be 
the wife of a man of small income but recognized social 
position. Nor was the poor woman as yet by any means 
out of the wood of her perplexities. Aveline^s words of 
misgiving had scarcely passed her lips when Lady Christina 
put her head in at the door. 

‘‘ Aveline, my love,^^ she said, “ I think you had better 
help Fenton a ‘little with the unpacking. It is not really 
that there is too much for her to do, but if you and Leo 
were with her, showing her how you would like your 
things, it might cheer her up a little. She says she is sure 
she is going to have one of her bad headaches. Indeed, all 
the servants are so cross, and we must smooth them down 
a little before nurse and the children come. I^ve sent her 
to lie down for half an hour and given her some sal- 
volatile.’^ 

“ Then you don’t want me to go to her at once?” said 
Aveline, coming forward. 

“ No, but in the meantime you might help me by send- 
ing a word to Lady Ayrton — she begged me to write as 
soon as we arrived. Here is her address — no — what have 
I ’done with her letter?— that is Mr. Here ward’s note of 


44 


MARRYI^TG AKB GIVIN^G TIT MARRIAGE. 


this morning. He will be here between three and four, he 
says, to see if he can be of any use, as I told you, so we 
must not go out before then. I must be civil to him, for 
he has done his best, poor fellow, though really this 
imrUment is full of inconveniences. Where is Lady Ayr- 
ton^s letter? I can not remember what day she said they 
were leaving. 

‘‘I know her address if they are still at Pau,^^ said 
Aveline. “ They will not have left yet — there will be time 
for her to gefc a letter. 

“ Yes — oh, yes. Then just send her a word, dear, and 
give her our address again. She is so very stupid about 
addresses, j)oor dear. Tell her I will write as soon as I 
have a moment, and that you hope Sir Francis is pretty 
well, and send my love. Write nicely — ^you know how.^^ 

“ Yes, mamma, said Aveline. 

‘‘And sign yourself, ‘yours affectionately,^ added 
Lady Christina, stopping a moment at the door. 

“ Certainly, mamma, if you wish it,^^ replied the girl, 
though with a shade of hesitation. 

“ I do wish it. It will please her,^^ said her mother, as 
she at last disappeared. 

Aveline stood by the table a moment in a sort of vague 
consideration. She felt a little, a very little, puzzled. 

“ Ave,^’ said Leo, from the balcony— she hii discovered 
while her mother was speaking that the window at the 
other side of the room actually opened upon a tiny balcony 
— “ Ave, look here; there^s just room for us two if we 
squeeze a little— isnT it nice? Come out here for two 
minutes. You'll have plenty of time to write the letter. 
Ave, tell me, don't you think mamma is — " 

“ Is what?" said Aveline, slowly. But she did not look 
at her sister as she spoke. Her gaze was turned to the 
sunny street below, where a pretty group of children and 
nurses were passing at the moment. The little voices 
sounded clear and merry; some birds were twittering 


MARRYIN-G ANT) GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 45 

cheerily as they hopped from branch to branch of a tree 
whose fresh green leaves one could almost see growing; 
from further off the rumble of carriages, the sound of a 
barrel-organ softened by the distance, fell not unpleasantly 
upon the ear. Everything was cheerful and lively and 
novel. Why did it all seem just a shade less bright than 
a few minutes ago? Why was the sunshine a faint degree 
less vivid? 

“ That mamma is what?^^ Aveline repeated; and now 
she turned her eyes to Leonora and looked the child full in 
the face. 

“ I don^t like to say it. You are so particular, Ave,^^ 
replied Leo. “ What I would like to say if I dared, only 
I haven ^t said it, so you^re not to scold — is, donH you 
think mamma is after something V’ 

“ Leonora, you are very naughty, very, very — horridly 
disrespectful and suspicious, said Aveline, indignantly. 
‘‘ It just shows that I must never speak to you as if you 
were at all grown up — which you arenH, 

‘‘No, indeed, interposed Leo, disconsolately; ‘‘this 
frock is, I vow it is, two inches shorter than my last. And 
when I showed it to Fenton, she said my lady wouldn^t 
hear of my having them longer. Just look, Aveline, 
and she stretched out, as far as she could in the restricted 
space, a pair of very pretty, irreproachably black-silk- 
stockinged legs, “ I^m sure you couldnT- see as much of 
them in my old blue serge! Yoih needn’t snub me, too, 
Ave.” 

“Which you aren’t, and won’t be for a long time,” 
pursued Aveline, as composedly as if Leo had not spoken, 

‘ ‘ if you can speak so of mamma. I feel ashamed of hav- 
ing heard it — just when I was thinking how wonderfully 
kind and good and patient poor mother has been through 
all the worries she has had about coming here. She has 
not been the least vexed with me, and I know I don’t help 
her mucL 


4G MAEEYING AND GIVING IN MAEEIAGE. 

“ She won^t let you. It^s not your fault,^^ said Leo. 
“ After all, IVe not said anything shocking. If’s just be- 
cause mamma has been so very kind and patient — ^you are 
rather provoking sometimes; both you and papa want 
shaking now and then — that I said that. Don’t you know 
when I^reddy’s extra quiet, as it’s his nature to be dread- 
fully noisy, we always say, ‘ What can he be after?’ 
Everybody’s the same. If you took to scurrying about 
and putting everything in order, and being dreadfully 
energetic, I’d say to myself, ‘ Ave must have got some- 
thing in her head. ’ ” 

“ E'o, it wasn’t quite like that you said it. You meant 
that mamma was, in a way, coaxing me, or trying to come 
over me, as the boys say. And it isn’t a nice way to speak 
of one’s mother, Leo. Besides, what reason could she 
have for anything like that?” 

“I don’t know,” said Leonora, bluntly; and then she 
sat still for a moment or two. “ Aveline,” she went on, 
“ do manage for me to be in the drawing-room to-day 
when Mr. Hereward calls. I do so want to see him 
again.” 

“I think mamma is very wise indeed to keep you in 
short frocks,” said Aveline, laughing, as she got up to go 
and write her letter. The happy look had come back to 
her eyes, and the sunshine was as bright as ever again. 

Mother and daughters were together in the smaller of 
the two salons that afternoon yhen Mr. Hereward called. 
It was quite against all home rules for Leonora to be seen 
“ out of the school-room,” but, for the moment. Lady 
Christina’s usual arrangements were very much upset. 
Governess there was as yet none, and the only “ school- 
room ” possible in the appartement promised to be this 
same little drawing-room opening with folding-doors into 
the larger one. 

“ Let her stay with us for this day or two, mamma,” 
pleaded Aveline. “ She has been working hard lately. 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


47 


and I will make her talk French as much as I can. Here 
is my letter to Lady Ayrton; please tell me if it will 
do.'^ 

Lady Christina^s rather sharp face seemed to relax as 
she read the sheet that Aveline gave her. 

“ Yes/^ she said, “ it will do/^ and she smiled a little. 
“ You might have made it a — well, a little more expans- 
ive. 

Aveline raised her eyebrows, with a look of surprise. 

“ More expansive, mamma she exclaimed. “ But I 
know Lady Ayrton so slightly. 

“ You know that I consider her one of my dearest 
friends. And don^t get into that habit of repeating my 
words, Aveline. It is so rude. 

“ I beg your pardon, mamma, said Aveline, meekly. 

And what about the letter? You see I meant to make 
it very — very respectful, as it were. I know she has been 
a faithful friend to you, and I do respect her and feel grate- 
ful to her for that. ” 

“ Ah, well, never mind what I said. I dare say it will 
do very nicely, my dear, said Lady Christina, mollified 
again. And Aveline, as she went off to announce the good 
news to Leonora, thought to herself that it really was very 
nice for mamma to be so kind and easily pleased. 

She looked bright and happy that afternoon when Nigel 
was announced, and his eyes rested on her for a moment 
with even more admiration than he had yet felt for her. 

“ So good of you to come so soon, dear Mr. Here ward 
said Lady Christina. 

“ Yes,"^ added Aveline, smiling; “do you know, it is 
quite absurd, but though we have not been here twenty- 
four hours, Leo and I have been saying to each other that 
it would be quite a treat to see an Englishman. 

“Are you so very patriotic?"" said the young man. 
“ How much more animated she has grown! She has lost 
that dreamy, half-frightened look she used to have. It 


48 


MARBYING AKD GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


had a charm of its own, but this is still more charming/^ 
he thought. And something of these thoughts must, in 
spite of himself, have appeared in his eyes, for a very, very 
slight tinge of color came over Aveline^s fair face. Alas, 
poor Nigel! “ And where is Leo! — that is to say. Miss 
Leonora. Must it be that now?'^ he added, turning to 
Lady Christina. 

“ Oh, dear, no,^^ she replied, quickly. “ Leo is quite a 
child. Where is she?^^ and hearing herself summoned, Leo, 
very conscious of the objectionable short skirt, emerged 
from the balcony, and came forward, for once in her life, 
rather shyly. 

“ She is growing a very tall child,^^ said Mr. Hereward, 
as he shook hands, with less tact than might have been ex- 
pected of a young diplomatist. 

Lady Christina did not smile, and hastened to change 
the subject. 

‘‘I am, and so is Mr. Verney, so very much obliged to 
you for all the trouble you have taken for us,^^ she said, 
graciously. “ I hope we shall see a great deal of you while 
we are here, though, I suppose, you have many friends and 
plenty of engagements?^^ 

“ Of course I know lots of people, he said, “ and I am 
kept very busy, too. But I can certainly always find time 
to come to see you if you will let me. There are no 
friends like old friends. You must tell me if I can be of 
any use, at any time and in any way. 

Here Leo opened her mouth as if about to speak, and 
then shut it up again. She looked so funny that Aveline 
began to laugh. Nigel glanced at her with some surprise 
—he was thinking to himself that he had never hear^ her 
laugh before, and that it was astonishing how well it suited 
her, notwithstanding her statuesque style. 

What is it, Leo?^^ said her mother. “ Speak, child. 

Leo grew red. 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 49 

“ I was only thinking/" she said, “ there are such lots 
of places and things we want to see, and papa says he"s go- 
ing to be so busy here."" 

Mr. Hereward looked up eagerly. “ I should be de- 
lighted to act as qicerone, "" he began. 

“ You are very kind,"" Lady Christina replied, amiably, 
while quick as lightning she mentally reviewed the situa- 
tion. “ There can be no risk in it,"" she thought, “ he is 
quite safe. Satisfactorily poor, that is to say, so poor that 
he can"t dream of marrying. No half-and-half position. 
I have never heard of his doing anything silly; he just ad- 
mires all pretty girls, knowing he can go no further. With 
Fenton and Leo, Aveline might go to see the galleries and 
churches with him now and then, and it would make it 
seem natural for her to go about with the Ayrtons when 
they come, if I at once adopt the role of not being able for 
much. And he is an old friend — cousinly sort of friend. "" 

‘‘ You are very kind,"" she repeated, slowly. “ I should 
be very glad if you could escort the girls once or twice to 
see a few of the sights. They are quite country cousins 
here, you see, and I am really not strong enough for sight- 
seeing. Nothing knocks me up so. "" A slight, almost im- 
perceptible movement of Leo"s chair here made her mother 
glance at her sharply. “ What are you fidgeting about, 
Leo?"" she said. “ It will be easier in a week or two, when 
the friends we are expecting from the south come,"" she 
went on to Mr. Hereward. ‘‘ Aveline will then never be 
at a loss for escorts, and I shall, I trust, have found a gov- 
erness for this wild tomboy here,"" with an indulgent smile 
in Leonora "s direction meant to counteract the sharp 
glance in case Nigel had perceived it; “ but till then it 
will be very good of you to act showman a little."" 

‘‘When shall we begin then?"" asked Mr. Hereward. 
‘‘ No time like the present, and I am quite free to-day. 
Have you made any plans?"" 

“lam going to Madame de Bonco0ur"s as soon as I can 


50 


MARRYINTt akd giyin^g in marriage. 


get ready/ ^ said Lady Christina. ‘‘ I should like the girls 
to join me there later in the afternoon. 

“ Shall I take them to the Louvre palace?^^ said Nigel, 
“ and thence across the Tuileries gardens to the Rue de 
Touraine? It would give them a first rough idea of where 
they are.” 

“ I should like it very much,” said Aveline. 

“ Then go and get ready, both of you, and tell Fenton 
to accompany you, of course. It will do her headache 
good.” 

“ And you like your appartement, I hope?” said Mr. 
Here ward. “lam sure it can not be all you wish, but it 
really was not easy to find anything that would have taken 
you in except at a very much higher rent. Madame de 
Boncoeur^s ideas and mine were somewhat opposed — her 
notions of your requirements were rather amusing. But, 
on the whole, I donH think we could have done better.” 

“ I quite believe it,” said Lady Christina. “ The situa- 
tion could not be better, and no doubt we shall get used to 
it all in a few days. Of course we have plenty of room at 
present, but the three little ones will be coming in two 
days.” 

“ Oh, of course,” said the young man, vaguely. 

“We couldnH leave them behind, poor little things,” 
said Lady Christina, who had begun to long for Freddy 
and Lilian and Cecil already, though she would not have 
owned it to her husband; and Nigel, seeing the maternal 
love in her face, began, man-like, to think he had done 
her injustice. 

“No, certainly not,” he said, warmly. 

“ But, oh,” Lady Christina went on, allowing Jievself a 
momentary burst of confidence, “ it is so hard to manage 
such a family with so little money! DonT thinh of marry- 
ing, my dear Mr. Hereward, till you are at the top of the 
tree, or very near it. ” 


MARRYIISTG AKD GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 5l 

The young man laughed, but his laugh was slightly 
forced and constrained. 

“ No/^ he replied; “ nowadays I suppose romance has 
to go to the wall. 

“ You can’t help its going to the wall when debts and 
difficulties push their way in/’ said Lady Christina. “ I 
am parodying the old proverb. But it is certainly better 
to give romance the go-by before marriage, than to let it 
say farewell to you after marriage.” 

Mr. Hereward had strolled to the window, for he had 
not sat down since the girls left the room. 

Life isn’t an easy matter to see one’s way through. 
After all, it seems sometimes as if the soundest philosophy 
were to ‘gather the roses while you may,’” he said, 
lightly. 

“ Provided you don’t mind scratching your fingers in the 
process,” said Lady Christina, rather pleased with her 
smart rejoinder. 

They both laughed, but she had no idea of his unspoken 
reply. “ So long as I’m sure it is only my fingers, I do 
not mind. ” 

And then the door opened, and Aveline and Leo, bright 
with pleasure and expectancy, came in, the discreet Fenton 
looming in the background. 

Along the Eue de Kivoli, as everybody knows, it is im- 
possible of a fine day to walk three abreast. It fell out 
naturally therefore that Aveline and Mr. Hereward made 
their way in front, Leo and the maid bringing up the rear 
some little way behind, and to this arrangement no one 
made or felt any objection. Leo was completely absorbed 
in looking about her, and under the rain of her lively re- 
marks; the sunshine and the agreeable movement around, 
even Fenton’s plaintive countenance began to cheer up. 
As for Aveline, it may be seriously questioned if she had 
ever felt so happy in her life. 

“ I had no idea Paris was so delightful,” she ejaculated, 


52 


MARRYIITG AKD GIVIIirG IK MARRIAGE. 


more than once, to her companion's half-amused but 
wholly admiring satisfaction. 

“ It is very nice — of a bright day, and — and when every- 
thing seems to match, he said, smiling down at her, as 
he thought to himself how this unspoiled sim2:)licity, this 
readiness to be pleased, added new charms to the girl al- 
ready so lovely in his eyes. Just then a whisper from a 
lady passing them, an Englishwoman, of course, caught his 
ear. ‘‘ Honey-mooners evidently, she observed, archly, 
to her companioh, as her glance fell on the stately young 
pair. A flush rose to NigeFs temples, but Miss Verney 
walked on in serene unconsciousnes. 

“ What would she have thought if she had heard it?^^ he 
said to himself. 

Then she turned to him with some question, and their 
talk fell on the place and things about them. And in a 
few minutes the little party found themselves at the en- 
trance to the Louvre. 

Inside the galleries they naturally kept more together. 
Leonora overcame her shyness and chattered like what she 
was — a school-girl out for a holiday. And indeed on her 
elders, too, something of the holdiay spirit seemed to have 
descended. Not often had the treasures of the Salon 
Carre been admired by more smiling eyes, or the Galerie 
d’ Apollon trodden by more springing feet. 

“ Thank you so very much — we have so enjoyed it,^^ 
said Aveline, as they were nearing their destination, for 
‘‘ The Kue de Touraine is the next street on our right, 
Nigel had said a moment before. 

“ I hope we may have many, at least several more such 
afternoons, he replied. ‘‘ Lady Christina said something 
about friends joining you before long. Are you expecting 
relations?’^ 

“ Oh, no,^^ said Aveline, “ I think mamma must have 
meant the Ayrtons— they are to be here for some weeks oa 
their way from Pau. 


MARRYIiTG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


53 


She spoke indifferently, but with a slight shadow in her 
voice. Some instinct made her dread the coming of these 
friends of her mother^s, whom she scarcely knew. 

“ The Ayrtons repeated Mr. Here ward. “ Oh, yes, 
I heard they were coming. But Sir Francis Ayrton is a 
confirmed invalid. I scarcely see how he can be anything 
in the shape of an escort for you. 

Nor I; I don T quite understand what mamma meant, 
said Miss Verney. “ Unless it is to drive about with Lady 
Ayrton — she is very kind, I know. 

“ But very fat, poor woman. I donT think she would 
ever get to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, for instance — 
if you really mean to do the sights thoroughly you must, 
at least sometimes, have .a man with you. There is a — a 
young Ayrton, he went on, slowly, looking at Aveline as 
he spoke, “ but — 

“ But he is horrid/* said Aveline, impulsively. ‘‘ I 
shouldnT say so, perhaps, for I have only seen him two or 
three times; and it isnT kind — especially as his father and 
mother are really good friends of mammals — to speak 
against their son — I dare say they think him delightful. 

“ I should doubt it,^’ said Nigel, dryly. 

“ Why, you are as prejudiced as exclaimed Miss 
Verney; mamma was giving me a lecture about being prej- 
udiced the other day apropos of this very Mr. Ayrton. ” 

‘‘ Apropos of him/* said Mr. Here ward, in a curious tone 
of voice. ‘‘No, Miss Verney, in this instance at least I 
am not prejudiced. I had the — the misfortune to be at 
school with the person in question. But do not let us talk 
any more about disagreeable subjects, and so spoil the 
flavor of our afternoon at the end.^^ 

Here Leonora, who had been walking beside the others, 
for they were now in a quiet street where the passers-by 
were few, suddenly made a remark which seemed to re- 
store Mr. Here ward ^s slightly disturbed equanimity. 

“Ave/^ she said, “donT you remember mamma said 


54 MAKRYING AKD GIVING IN' MARRIAGE. 

she did expect to. have some relations here? The Eos- 
lands, that nice Amy and Mr. Eosland. Perhaps it is they 
whom we, or at least you, are to go about with.^^ 

Oh, yes,^^ said Aveline, ‘‘ I had forgotten about them. 
It must be Mr. and Mrs. Eosland she meant. 

“To be sure,^’ said Nigel, heartily. “And very nice 
people they are. Put here is Madame de Boncceur, so I 
must say good-bye. 

“ ArenT you coming in with us?^^ said Miss Yerney, in 
a tone of disappointment. “ I am just a little afraid of 
Madame de Boncceur, and even more of her granddaugh- 
ter, even though mamma is sure to be here. And you 
know them so well. Why wonT you come in?^^ 

He shook his head laughingly. 

“ It is not their day,^^ he said. “ Madame de Boncceur 
would, I assure you, be utterly astounded if I marched in. 
SheM never get over it — she would not indeed. Pray tell 
Lady Christina that I shall hope to have the pleasure of 
calling in a day or two j;o see if I can be of any use. You 
will find Mademoiselle de Villers a very nice girl — ^you will, 
really, he added, as he raised his hat in farewell. 

Lady Christina had been sitting with her old friend for 
the last hour. They had met with genuine pleasure and 
interest on both sides, though not without some natural 
emotion; for it was seven years since they had seen each 
other, and then but hurriedly, and nearly four times as 
long a period had elapsed since the days of Lady Chris- 
tina^s youth, when she and her sisters had accompanied 
their father in his official capacity to Paris. The elder of 
the two women was less changed than the younger. 

“ You do not look a day older, dear madame,’^ said her 
guest, “ while I, I feel, am dreadfully aged,^^ and she 
sighed. “ I have so many cares — a large family and small 
means. 

“ But a good husband and, I hear, charming daughters,^ ^ 
replied the old lady, patting Lady Clnlstina's hand encour- 


MARRYIKG AKD GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 55 

agingly. “ These are compensations in your large English 
families. Think how empty my home is! Only my 
daugther and the one grandchild. Ah, yes, there is always 
the revers,^^ 

“ AVell, of course, when one has them, one can not wish 
they were not there, agreed Lady Christina. “But I 
could with great philosophy have resigned myself to one 
daughter only, I assure you, instead of three — not to speak 
of four sons. 

“ Seven exclaimed the old lady, lifting up her hands. 
“ Tell me all about them;^^ and Aveline’s mother, not un- 
willingly, plunged into a description of the family 'party. 

“ I must see them soon, especially your eldest, and she 
and my Modeste must be friends.-’^ 

“ I hope so, indeed, said Lady Christina. “ Aveline 
has never had many intimate friends. I have endeavored 
to form her mind myself and to guide her judgment. 
Young people are so easily deceived, so apt to be carried 
away by outward appearances. 

The old lady nodded. 

“ Doubtless, she agreed. “ Still, they must learn to 
form their opinions. My Modeste has a great deal of char- 
acter, I am glad to say. She will, I think, make an ex- 
cellent wife and mistress of a household. And I think I 
may say we have made a good choice for her, though noth- 
ing is as yet announced. 

Lady Christina pinched up her lips. 

“ Ah, indeed/" she said, “ and I hope your granddaugh- 
ter is — is quite pleased? Have she and the gentleman met 
yet?"" 

Mme. de Boncoeur looked at her and began to laugh.^ 

“ My dear friend,"" she exclaimed, “ you seem to take 
your notions of us from old-fashioned French — or English 
— novels. Do you really think I would drag my grand- 
daughter from the convent to the altar, there to marry a 
man she had never seen? Of course Modeste has seen 


5G MARRYIl^G AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

Monsieur de Bois-Hubert; he has visited at my house for 
some time by my permission, as have done others, equally 
unobjectionable, but with none of whom things went fur- 
ther, as natural sympathy and attraction were evidently 
wanting. Modeste has had, and will have, before things 
are concluded, ample opportunities of judging for herself. 
It is only fair and reasonable. All I, loe — her mother and 
I — are concerned with, are the first essentials, without be- 
ing assured of wliich no man should be admitted to our in- 
timacy. You will see Monsieur de Bois-Hubert here often. 
I intend to have week-day receptions, too, for a time; the 
young people may perhaps dance a little sometimes, and 
by the end of next month or so I hope Modeste will have 
decided in favor of this gentleman. Indeed I feel sure of it. 
But at present all I tell you is in confidence. 

‘ ‘ Thank you. I am fiattered that you should give it 
me,^^ said Lady Christina, sweetly; “ and you may be sure 
I shall observe it strictly. I shall not mention this, even 
to my daughter. 

“ Oh, as for that,^^ said the old lady, shrugging her 
shoulders a little, “ I leave it to you. If the young creat- 
ures become friends, it will be only natural that Modeste 
should give your child some of her confidence. 

But Lady Christina, though she said nothing, privately 
resolved that Aveline should be cautioned against over in- 
timacy with Modeste de Villers. “ French girls are so 
differently brought up — have such strange ideas about mar- 
riage, and so on/^ Aveline should be told. 

And she thought to herself that this sort of modern 
modification of the ‘‘dreadful system of arranging mar- 
riages was really far from an improvement. “ For all 
the world,^^ she confided to her husband, “ like servant- 
girls and their sweethearts ‘ keeping company,^ as they call 
it.^^ To which Mr. Verney replied that for his part he 
had always thought “ keeping company a most sensible 
institution, No more, however, was said on the subject of 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


Modeste’s prospects by Mme. de Boncoeur, for just then the 
door was thrown open to announce the Misses Verney^ and 
Mile, de Villers was summoned to make their acquaintance. 

“ I hope we are not late, mamma/^ said Aveline, when 
the first civilities had been exchanged, and Mme. de Bon- 
coeur was smiling with kind approval on the fair face of 
her old friend^s daughter. ‘‘We walked fast, I think, 
and Mr. Hereward brought us the shortest way. 

“ Mr. Hereward repeated the old lady, inquiringly, 
and with a slight tone of surprise. 

“ Yes — yes — our mutual friend. He undertook to show 
the girls and my maid — who was with them, of course — 
the way here,^-’ replied Lady Christina, airily. “ I pre- 
ceded them, to have my little chat with you, dear ma- 
dame. 

“Ah, indeed,-’^ said Mme. de Boncceur, though still 
seemingly a little perplexed. 

“ How tactless Aveline is!" thought her mother. “ She 
blurts out everything. There is no need to tell every 
trifle while Mme. de Boncceur was secretly wondering if 
she had made some mistake in supposing the young man to 
be too decidedly poor to marry. “If it be so, Christine, 
English though she be, would never be so insane as to let 
him and that lovely girl — he so attractive too — be together 
in this intimate way. " 

Then the English ladies took their leave, the young girls 
naturally attracted to each other in spite of their shyness. 

“ Miss Verney is beautiful, and as good as she is beauti- 
ful, I feel sure,^^ Modeste burst out, when alone with her 
grandmother. “ How sorry I am mamma was not at 
home to see her! And the little one — not that she is very 
little, what long black legs u,nd short skirts she has!— she 
too is charming, I am certain; there is a look of so much 
intelligence and mischief in her eyes. If only we were not 
so frightened, they of my French and I of their English!" 


58 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


CHAPTER V. 

Mme. de Boncceur^s Thursday evening receptions 
proved a great success. Among all the Paris gayeties in 
the midst of which the Verneys quickly found themselves, 
these so-called “ unceremonious^^ little dances were what 
Aveline enjoyed the most. She soon came to feel at home 
with Modeste de Villers, and would have gladly become 
even more intimate with the intelligent and amiable 
French girl but for Lady Christina’s repeated warnings to 
be careful. 

“She is so very nice and sensible, mamma,” Aveline 
ventured to remonstrate, “ I am sure you would like all 
she says.” 

But Lady Christina shook her head. 

“ Madame de Boncoeur’s granddaughter is doubtless one 
of the best specimens of a French girl,” she replied; “but 
I do not like their ways of looking at things. Has she 
ever chattered about being married, to you, Aveline?” 

“ H — no. She has alluded to it very slightly once or 
twice; but not in any definite way. Surely her grand- 
mother and mother won’t force her to marry any one she 
doesn’t like, will they? It would make me so unhappy to 
think so — poor, sweet little Modeste. ” 

“ You need not pity her, my dear. French people look 
at things from a radically different point of view from 
ours,” repeated Lady Christina. “And they are very 
wealthy — ^they can afford to let the girl be a little fanciful 
if she likes,” she added, with a sincere enough sigh. 

And the tiny cloud of misgiving, as regarded her friend’s 
happiness, faded away from the girl’s mind. It was not 
difficult in these days for Aveline Verney to see everything 
coideur de rose; all combined to make life appear to her a 


MAKRYIKG AND GIVING IN MAKRIAGE. 


59 


better and more beautiful thing than she had ever pictured 
it. Her mother grew kinder and more “ approving 
every day; Aveline felt that she was admired wherever she 
went, more openly than had been the case in England — for 
French people are not so afraid as their neighbors of ex- 
pressing their admiration, and many a graceful little com- 
pliment fell pleasantly on the father^s and mother’s ears, 
and the knowledge of her success gave to the naturally 
timid girl the confidence and animation she had lacked. 
Then the weather continued lovely, and at least two or 
three times a week Nigel llereward repeated his role of 
cicerone, apparently to the perfect content of all concerned. 
And Aveline, whose training had left her in many ways in- 
experienced enough, despite her twenty years, lived in the 
present, and looked not to the future — there could be no 
risk in anything “ mamma ” sanctioned. 

Perhaps of all the lookers-on, little Leo, with her sharp 
eyes, rendered still sharper by her affection for her sister, 
saw the most of the game and its dangers. 

One Wednesday morning, about three weeks after the 
Verneys’ arrival, a letter from Pau reached Lady Chris- 
tina, the contents of which appeared to cause her the live- 
liest satisfaction. 

‘‘ They will be here this evening!” she exclaimed. “ I 
am so pleased. I must ask Madame de Boncoeur for an in- 
vitation for them for to-morrow.” 

“ Who will be here this evening?”- asked Aveline. “ The 
Eoslands?” 

The Eoslands!” repeated her mother, with more as- 
perity than she had often shown of late; “ my dear Ave- 
line, are you asleep? I told you that the Eoslands are very 
probably not coming npw. No, of course I was speaking 
of the Ayrtons.” 

‘‘ I am sorry — about Amy, I mean,” said Aveline. “ If 
she had come I could have gone about with her, as you 
said, and it would not have been so tiring for you. ” 


60 


MAKBYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


“ Go about with Amy?’^ said Lady Christina;, for the 
second time committing the solecism of repeating another 
person’s words, “ I never thought of such a thing. Amy 
is very little older than you, and much giddier. If I ever 
spoke of your going about with any one I must have meant 
the Ayrtons. ” 

And her tone did not encourage Aveline to say more. 
That evening Mr. Verney and his daughter dined with some 
English friends at their hotel, and Lady Christina went off 
to welcome her dear Lady Ayrton. She appeared in ex- 
cellent spirits the next morning, displaying peculiar inter- 
est on the subject of Aveline’s dress for that evening. 

‘‘ I thought my pale blue would do quite well,” said the 
young girl. “ My white — the new white — is quite dressy 
enough for a large ball.” 

But her mother decided in favor of “ the new white.” 
“We must get it done up again, or manage another, if 
there is any large ball soon,” she said, philosophically, to 
her daughter’s surprise. 

“ I promised to go to Sophia this afternoon,” she went 
on. “ I feel a little anxious about Sir Erancis; he seemed 
very knocked up with the journey. But I hope she and 
her son will be able to come to the Rue de Touraine to- 
night.” 

“ Oh, is ifn Ayrton here?” said Aveline, opening her 
eyes, and her accent was not expressive of pleasure. “ It 
will spoil Madame, de Boncoeur’s parties if he comes to 
them,” she said to herself. 

“ Of course Mr. Ayrton is here. It is not likely he 
would be away from them, especially with" his father^so ill. 
Their only child, too! Poor Sophia! she was saying to me 
this morning how she wished she had a daughter!” 

“ Yes,” said Aveline, sympathizingly, “ I wish she had. 
She seems so gentle and kind. I shall be glad to see her 
again.” 

“ You have a good little heart of your own, my child,” 


MAKE YIN G AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 61 

said her mother as she left the room, and Aveline reddened 
with pleasure. 

‘‘ Leo and I are going with Mr. Here ward to the Inval- 
ides this afternoon, mamma, she ran after her to say. 

“ Very well — only don^t tire yourself for this evening, 
her mother replied. “As Sophia was saying, she re- 
flected, “ we must arrange for Aveline to get into the way 
of going out with them as much as possible. ' I should 
think she will be glad to drive about instead of going sight- 
seeing on foot with poor Mr. Hereward. But he has really 
been most obliging. 

“ She is prettiest in white after all,^^ thought Nigel that 
evening, when, on entering the large salon at the Rue de 
Touraine, he caught sight of Miss Verney standing beside 
Mile, de Villers. “ Indeed, I^m afraid I think her pret- 
tiest in whatever she happens to have on.^^ 

In another moment Aveline passed him, dancing with 
M. de Bois-Hubert. She was smiling, and there was a lit- 
tle flush of unusual excitement on her face, for Modeste 
had just whispered to her that she wanted to talk to her 
quietly for a few minutes, she had something very impor- 
tant to tell her. Mr. Hereward waited till the dance was 
over, and then came forward to ask for one. 

“You don^t seem the least tired, he said, “though 
we really walked a good way to-day. 

“ It was so pleasant, I couldn^t have felt tired, she said, 
brightly. “ Then the next dance but one, if you like?^' 
she added, as Modeste touched her arm. 

“ I want to tell you myself —grandmamma said I might,” 
Mile, de Villers began. “ I dare say you can guess what 
it is, dear Aveline.” 

“ You are going to be married!” Aveline exclaimed. 

“ Yes — at least that will come in due time. In the first 
place there will be of course les fian^ailles, but I wanted 
you to know before it is formally announced. I count you 
quite like one of my best friends, though I have not knowu 


63 


3IAKKYIKG AND GIVING IN MAKKIAGE. 


you long. And Monsieur de Bois-Hubert — he likes and 
admires you so much. I hope we shall always be friends, 
dear Aveline.’^ 

“ And you/ ^ said Aveline, returning her little caress, 
for they were in a corner where they could not be seen, 
“ you are very happy — quite happy, dear Modeste, I hope?^^ 

“ Quite happy. Maurice is all I wanted. He is so good 
and kind, and clever too. And I know he truly cares for 
me. I can feel it somehow — he is so different from some 
others I have known. Ho, I have no misgiving; I feel 
sure I have done right. 

“But,^^ said Aveline, in surprise, “I did not know it 
was like that here — in France. I thought your parents 
simply told you whom you were to marry, and that you had 
to obey them. 

“ My parents gave their consent first, of course,^^ said 
Modeste. ‘‘ They have said on several occasions that this 
or that gentleman would not be disapproved of by them if 
I liked him. But then they left me free to decide. I 
should never have wished to marry any one they disap- 
proved of, I hope. Indeed, I scarcely could have done so. 
I know that no gentlemen they do not think well of are al- 
lowed to become intimate with us. That is only a matter 
of course. 

“I understand,” said Aveline, quietly. “I think in 
some ways French girls are to be envied, Modeste — and in 
your case especially. I am so glad you are so happy. 
There is Mr. Hereward, he will be wondering what we are 
talking about. ” 

“ He is so nice — so well-bred and sympatliique,^^ said 
Modeste. ‘‘ It was he that first told me about you, Avel- 
ine. Hear Aveline, I hope you will some day be as happy 
as I am,^^ and she stood for a moment looking after her 
two young English friends as they walked away. 

“I suppose it is not yet quite decided,^ ^ she thought, 
“ otherwise she would have told me/^ 


MARRYIKG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


63 


I think I know what Mademoiselle de Villers was tell- 
ing you, if I am not very indiscreet/^ said Nigel, when 
they were too far off for Modeste to hear. “ Her engage- 
ment to Monsieur de Bois-Hubert is soon to be announced 

Aveline blushed and nodded. 

If you. have guessed it, I have not told you,^' she said. 

“ I am very glad. He is a thorough good fellow, Mr. 
Here ward went on. “I think they will suit each other ex- 
cellently.^^ 

“It all seems very happy, said Aveline with a tiny 
sigh, but Nigel overheard it. 

“ What are you sighing about he asked; but though 
the words were said half laughingly, something in the 
tone, still more perhaps in the expression of the eyes bent 
down upon her as she glanced up to answer his question, 
made her falter again and look down. 

“ What was it?^^ he said, “ tell me;^^ and for an in- 
stant he yielded to the impulse strong upon him and laid 
his right hand tenderly on the little gloved one that lay on 
his left arm. “ I don^t like to hear you sigh, even ever so 
little, my — but the last word and the ‘ ‘ darling that 
was following it were smothered ere they were spoken. 

Aveline looked up again. 

“ I don^t know,^^ she answered, her voice trembling a 
very little; “ I really and truly don^t quite know, Mr. 
Hereward. It was a mixture of things. I canH put it in 
words. 

“ And if you could, would you tell mer’^ he aslied, softly. 

“ That I know still less,^^ she answered, smiling — more 
quickly recovering her self-control than he. For they were 
in the midst of the dancers by now; not far off. Lady 
Christina’s well-shaped head was to be seen, the aigrette of 
feathers surmounting the coils of hair nodding, not in the 
breeze, but with her lively movements. And Aveline 
knew that it was never for very long that her mother^s 
eyes lost sight of her. Yet why she shrunk from them 


64 MARRYIKG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

just now was another of the things she could scarcely have 
defined. 

“ Shall we not dance?’^ she said, after a moment^s 
silence, half timidly. 

Nigel obeyed her at once, but without speaking, and as 
he turned his face toward her she saw that he was very 
pale. 

They went through the waltz with but the interchange 
of a few commonplace remarks. Avelinefelt a vague curi- 
osity to know what Mr. Hereward would do when it was 
over. 

“ Will he take me back to mamma? she thought, “ or 
will he go on with what he was saying ?^^ 

And Nigel himself, in a tumult of feeling, felt as if fate 
were leading him he knew not whither. The merest acci- 
dent might have betrayed him into wild disregard of every- 
thing but the ardent love with which liis heart was beating, 
his veins throbbing — into throwing to the winds all his pru- 
dent resolves, all his impossible unselfishness. For in 
Aveline^s sweet eyes, in the tones of her faintly troubled 
voice, he had read the confession she did not know was 
there. 

Fate came — as she always does — cold and pitiless this 
time, in the garb of Lady Christina, faultlessly equal to the 
occasion, pioneering through the crowd a stout elderly lady 
with a gentle, anxious face, and a thick-set, ruddy-hued 
young man, clumsy though not exactly ungentlemanlike in 
his bearing, with a good-natured awkward smile illumina- 
ting not unpleasantly his rather heavy features. 

“ Poor fellow,^ ^ many would have felt inclined to say, 
seeing him thus for the first time, “ not very much at 
home in a ball-room, but a good, honest, unaffected sort of 
young man;’^ and a slight movement of surprise might not 
improbably have followed the announcement that this 
simple-looking, not to say loutish youth was the only son 
and heir of the very rich Sir Francis Ayrton, a great parti, 


MAKEYING Al^D GIVING IN MAREIAGE. 


65 


but “so sby in ladies^ company, poor fellow/^ many a 
mamma would have added, indulgently. 

h’or Wilfred Ayrton, with Garthdean in prospect. Lady 
Christina’s honeyed accents in his ears — ^for he was of the 
sort to love flattery even while he saw through it — and an 
agreeable sense of general prosperity, was at his best. Nor 
did his geniality and amiability diminish when he caught 
sight of the tall, white-robed figure with the lovely face and 
coronet of golden hair, with the eyes which even he could see 
were beautiful — more beautiful than of yore, for the soul 
had awakened: to this Undine, too, had come her woman’s 
heritage of love and sorrow! And he who understood, who 
felt with her and for her through every fiber of his strong 
yet gentle manhood, must stand by silent, and, as he 
slowly realized the whole, despairing and bitterly self- 
reproachful; while Wilfred Ayrton muttered a coarse “ By 
Jove! a deal handsomer than I fancied,” and, thickly smil- 
ing, held out his hand and pressed that of Aveline in his 
clumsy grasp. 

A first flash of revelation seemed for a moment to turn 
Nigel giddy. Miss Verney had perforce withdrawn her 
arm, and he stood free. Before any one could notice him, 
he had moved away and disappeared in the little crowd. 

“ I couldn’t have touched that fellow’s paw — not to 
save my life. If that is what is to be!” he groaned. 
“ My sweet, innocent Aveline — and if I have made it worse 
for her! God forbid — I must at least pull up now and 
undo the mischief if I can. But her mother— she must 
know what he is, surely. How can she think of it? 

And Aveline stood smiling, happy still; she could afford 
to smile and be cordial to her mother’s friends to-night, 
though she shrunk somewhat, and inwardly laughed at 
herself for so doing, from resigning to Mr. Ayrton’s touch 
the hand which so recently had received Nigel’s tender lit- 
tle caress. 

“Is she not looking well— this child of mine, dear 
8 


66 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

Sophia?"’ said Lady Christina, effusively. “ I have so 
looked forward to this meeting again.” 

“ You are, indeed, a most enviable mother,” said gentle 
Lady Ayrton. “ I should hardly have known you again, 
dear Aveline. Can you have grown? You seem to me to 
have done so; you have more color than formerly, in any 
case. " " 

“ I am enjoying myself so much in Paris; I suppose that 
makes me look particularly well,” said Aveline, brightly. 
“ And now mamma will enjoy herself diO\M.y, I think she 
has been counting the days for you to come. ” 

“ It will be delightful to be here together,” Lady Ayi’ton 
replied. “ Your mother has promised to let you be half 
my daughter here. I am counting upon you to go shop- 
ping, and I don’t know all what, with me.” 

“ Then you’ll let me off duty a bit, I hope, my lady,” 
said Mr. Ayrton, speaking for the first time. “ It will be 
very good-natured of Miss Verney, I’m sure — yet I’m by 
no means certain that I shall want to be let off,” and he 
laughed rather noisily at his own wit. 

Aveline glanced up at him in some surprise. But she 
could not help smiling at his broad, ruddy face, and the 
expression of satisfaction which she caught sight of in Lady 
Ayrton’s eyes helped to turn the scale in their favor. 

“ Poor thing,” she thought. “ It is touching to see how 
proud his mother is of him, though he is so clumsy and 
awkward. I think he is improved; he looks much better- 
tempered than he used to, and it is only kind to make the 
best of him, for her sake. ” 

So Aveline smiled again, more graciously this time, at 
Mr. Ayrton’s flattering speech. 

“ Aveline will enjoy of all things going about with you,” 
said Lady Christina. “ Poor child, she has not seen as 
much of Paris as I should have wished. You see I am so 
busy, and so easily tired,” she added, appealingly, to Lady 
Ayrton. 


' MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 67 

“ Oh, but, mamma, we have seeu a good deal,"" whis- 
pered Aveline; ‘‘ you forget how much Leo and I have 
been about with Mr. Hereward. "" 

Ah, yes,"" said her mother, though she did not seem 
particularly grateful for the reminder. “ I could not coop 
them up altogether, so they have seen a few of the regular 
lions with different friends. Among them young Here- 
ward has been very obliging, poor fellow."" 

You mean Nigel Hereward, I suppose?"" said Lady 
Ayrton. “ He is still here, I know. I heard from his 
step-sister, Mrs. Trevine, the other day. Yes, we used to 
know him."" 

“ Know Hereward — I should think so. We were at 
school together; got into some scrapes together, if I"m not 
mistaken,"" said Wilfred, laughing again. 

His mother glanced at him with a look almost of disgust. 
But this time her glance was unperceived by Miss Verney. 
Mr. Ayrton "s tone struck her disagreeably, nevertheless; 
she disliked to hear Nigel"s name on his lips. 

“ I hope Sir Francis Ayrton is pretty well?"" she said, 
gently. 

“ Much better to-day, thank you. When you come to 
me to-morrow, as I hope you will, he will be delighted to 
see you,"" replied Lady Ayrton. “ He has not forgotten 
you, I assure you."" 

‘‘ I remember him too, quite well,"" said Aveline, 
‘‘ though I think I have not seen him since I was a little 
girl. He was so kind to my brothers and me."" 

Then the elder ladies began to find out that they were 
tired and would like to sit down. Mr. Ayrton did not 
dance, Aveline was thankful to hear, though it was bad 
enough to have to accept his arm when he offered to take- 
her to get an ice. Still she was not soriy to go to the 
dining-room where the refreshments were to be had, think- 
ing that on the way she might, perhaps, catch sight of Mr. 
Hereward, whose defection she had become aware of some 


68 MAREYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

time ago. She had promised him another dance — the next 
to the one just ending — and she glanced about with a slight 
dread of his not finding her. 

He was not to be seen, however. She answered at ran- 
dom to Mr. Ayrton ^s attempts at making himself agree- 
able, but she smiled so amiably that he did not perceive her 
abstraction, and told his mother afterward, with unusual 
amiability, that things ‘‘ couldn^t be getting on better. ^ ^ 
But the evening was over for Aveline when, a few mo- 
ments after leaving the dancing-room, some one touched 
her gently on the arm, and turning she saw M. de Bois- 
Hubert. Her face fell a little, as the quick-witted French- 
man was not slow to perceive. He hastened, so far as he 
could, to reassure her. 

‘‘Mademoiselle,^^ he said, “my friend Mr. Here ward 
asked me to make his excuses for him. He was obliged to 
leave early — he was most distressed— most deeply distressed, 
but counted on your indulgence. 

“ Thank you,^^ said Aveline; “ thank you very much. 
It is not of the least consequence; we shall be leaving, our- 
selves, immediately.^^ 

She tried to smile, but the effort was not very successful. 
“ What an innocent child she is!^^ thought Modeste’s/awce. 
Poor little thing — what can be the matter? Nothing going 
wrong, I hope. Here ward did not seem very happy 
either.’’ For his own prospects predisposed him to take a 
peculiar interest in the affairs of his and Modeste’s friends. 

“ Hate Frenchmen — set of affected monkeys, the whole 
lot of them. Don’t you think so. Miss Verney?” said Mr. 
Ayrton, engagingly. 

And Aveline smiled again, and said, “ Yes, certainly.” 

“ Are you tired, my love?” asked her mother, when they 
found themselves in the carriage, driving home. For Ave- 
line’s silence struck her. “ Such a pleasant evening. ” 

“ Yes, very;— no, thank you, I am only a little sleepy,” 
the girl answered. Her mother’s kindness touched her. 


MARRYIITG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGB. 


69 


“ If she had always been like that/^ thought Aveline. 
“ I wish — I wish I could tell her everything I feel. 

“ You have been walking too much/^ said Lady Chris- 
tina, “ but now you will have more driving. To-morrow 
you will have a nice day with Lady Ayrton. She is com- 
ing to fetch you at twelve. 

“ Yes,^^ said Aveline, indifferently. To-morrow was not 
one of ‘‘Mr. Here ward days,” as she and Leo had got 
into the way of calling them. She knew he was to be very 
busy till late; he had said so. On Saturday or Sunday 
perhaps, she might see him again, and doubtless he would 
explain the reason of his sudden disappearance. So Friday 
was spent pleasantly enough, in driving and shopping with 
her mothers friends. Lady Ayrton she felt it impossible 
not to like, so gentle and affectionate was she. And poor 
Sir Francis — how ill he looked! The girFs kind heart went 
out to him, for Sir Francis could be very charming still 
when he chose, and his clever, caustic little speeches, modi- 
fied for her benefit, struck her as amusing in the extreme. 

“ I would like them both,” she told Leo that evening, 
“ I do like them — if only it were not for the son.^^ 

“ Is he so very horrid asked Leo, sympathizingly. 

“No, I really don’t think he is as bad as I expected. He 
is only very stupid and heavy, and I can’t help feeling sorry 
for him when his father snaps at him so, though he 
doesn’t seem to see it. He must be very good-natured, and 
he is nice to his mother. It was he that gave me these 
lovely fiowers; and Aveline’s eyes rested admiringly on 
some exquisite roses Leo had been helping her to arrange. 

But she was less disposed to feel amiably toward the 
Ayrton family the next day, when there came a note asking 
her to accompany the mother and son to an exhibition of 
paintings that afternoon and to return to tea. 

“ I don’t think I can go,” she began; “ I was out all 
yesterday, and — ” 

“ Of course you can go,” interrupted Lady Christina, de- 


70 


MAKRTIN-G AND GIYING IN MARRIAGE. 


cidedly. “ I am delighted for you to see those pictures, 
and the entrance is ten francs each. I really can’t afford 
that kind of thing for ourselves ” — and Aveline had not 
the moral courage to say more. But she did what she 
could. 

“ Leo,^^ she said to her sister, I feel certain Mr. Here- 
ward will call to-day. Try to see him and tell him I had 
to go out; you may say you knew I didn’t want to go. 
And try to plan for us to go somewhere else with him next 
week.” 

Leo nodded sagaciously; and somewhat less reluctantly 
Aveline joined Lady Ayrton when the summons came. 

The picture exhibition was crowded. It took time and 
patience to get near enough to see. And then Lady 
Ayrton had cards to leave at a house at some little dis- 
tance. It was rather late before they got back to the Hotel 
d’Anvers. 

“ You will be glad of a cup of tea, my dear child,” said 
Lady Ayrton, as they made their way upstairs to her draw- 
ing-room; ‘‘ and poor Sir Francis will have begun to de- 
spair of us. Wilfred, order tea at once, please.” 

Mr. Ayrton turned to obey, and the ladies went on by 
themselves. Voices reached them as the door opened — 
Sir Francis’s sounding more interested and cheerful than 
usual, and another. Whose was the tall figure that rose 
from the side of the invalid’s couch and came forward to 
meet them? For a moment Aveline was too surprised to 
take in the fact of his presence— then a thought went 
quickly through her. “ Can Leo have told him where I 
was? Clever little Leo!” and her smile was very sweet 
and bright as she shook hands. 

“ I have had a most agreeable half hour, you will be de- 
lighted to hear, my dear Sophia, ” said Sir Francis, with 
his peculiar accent of latent irony. Mr. He reward has 
been so truly kind as to sit listening for that length of 
time to an old invalid’s grumbling and fancies. Hay, I 


MAERYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 71 

mean what I say/ ^ he went on; “ the Fates have been really 
amiable to me since I came here. Yesterday Miss Verney 
with her gracious sympathy, to-day another old friend 
equally patient, and now Miss Verney again. But what 
has become of my stock consolation, the staff of my old 
age and weakness, my dearly beloved son?’^ 

‘‘ He stayed down-stairs to order tea, Francis, that is 
all,^^ said his wife, rather shortly. “ I am so glad to see 
you, Mr. Hereward,^"" she went on, turning to Nigel. 
“ I suppose you knew of our coming through Mrs. Tre- 
vine. 

“ Yes,^^ he replied, my sister mentioned it to me; but 
I also knew you were coming from Lady Christina Verney. 

“ Ah, of course; you and they are old friends. I don’t 
need to introduce Mr. Here ward to you. Miss Verney,” 
said Sir Francis, with one of his keen glances at the two as 
they stood together near him. 

“Oh, no,” said Aveline, smiling. “That would be 
very unnecessary. Mr. Hereward has been our guide here. 
He has shown my little sister and me nearly all we have 
seen of Paris,” she said. 

“ Yes,” said Nigel, with an involuntary glance at her — 
a glance which did not escape Sir Francis — “ we have had 
some very happy days here.” 

At that moment Mr. Ayrton entered the room and came 
up to the group. 

“ Halloo, Hereward,” he said, holding out his hand with 
what he meant to be easy cordiality, but which looked 
more like swagger, “ how are you? Some time since 
we’ve met. Tea’s on its way upstairs all right, my lady.” 

Nigel shook hands quietly. 

A few moments later, in the little bustle of tea-making 
and distributing, he found himself beside Aveline and out 
of the immediate hearing of the Ayrtons. 

“ I hope you did not think me very rude for running 
away so abruptly the other evening,” he said, softly. “ I 


72 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

really could not help it — I had important letters to write, 
and I did not know it was so late.^' 

“ Monsieur de Bois-Hubert gave me your message,^ ^ said 
Aveline. “ Have you been at our house this afternoon, 
Mr. Hereward?^’ she went on, eagerly. 

“ Yes,^^ he said — but that was all, and his tone seemed 
to the girl somewhat melancholy. A quick instinct of im- 
pending trouble thrilled through her, but she repelled it. 

‘‘ Can not we arrange for some more sight-seeing next 
week? Leo does so look forward to it,^^ she said, blushing 
a little at her own boldness. 

“ Leo is not the only one who has looked forward to it,^^ 
he said, gently. I am not a child now, but I can assure 
you I have never enjoyed anything as much before. I 
shall always remember it.^^ 

‘‘ Why do you speak in that way,^’ asked Aveline, ab- 
ruptly — ‘‘ as if it had come to an end?^^ 

“ Because — he began, and then stopped. “ By the 
bye. Miss Verney,^^ he went on, ‘‘ I wanted to tell you I 
had no idea the Ayrtons,^ ^ dropping his voice, were such 
friends of yours when I spoke of them the other day.^^ 

“ They are only old friends of mamma’s,'" said Aveline. 
“ I thought you were a little hard on — on the son,” she 
said, fearful of being overheard. 

Mr. Here ward looked up — at that moment Wilfred was 
helping his mother at the tea-table; for Lady Ayrton in- 
sisted on pouring it out herself in regular English fashion, 
even at a Paris hotel. He looked good-natured and cheeiy; 
of late he had decidedly been at his best. 

“ Perhaps he is improved,” Higel allowed. 

“ But,” said Aveline, ‘‘ I want to talk about our sight- 
seeing.” 

Mr. Hereward turned to her with an indescribable ex- 
pression in his eyes. 

“I am going away,” he said. “I have to leave next 
week.” 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 73 

Aveline felt herself growing pale. She made a tremen- 
dous effort. 

“I must help Lady Ayrton with the tea,'^ she said 
through the trembling of her voice, “ men never under- 
stand such things;^’ and she got up from her chair and 
went forward to the table, grasping it tightly as she stood 
beside it. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Leonora was watching anxiously for her sister when 
the latter went home. Lady Christina was busy in her own 
rooms, so the two girls were alone for a little. 

“ He came, Anq” said Leo, eagerly. “ I was practic- 
ing in the little drawing-room, and mamma wanted some- 
thing fetched, so she called me in. I told him — ^just as 
you said. 

‘‘ Yes, dear,^^ said Aveline, wearily, sitting down by the 
side of the bed and leaning her head on it. 

“ What^s the matter, Ave, dear? You look so white, 
said the young girl, anxiously. 

‘‘ Did you tell him where I had gone?’’ 

“ Yes, of course, he was rather funny, I thought. He 
only smiled when I asked him about going to see some 
other places, and said he wished we could. But he didn^t 
fix anything, and he had to speak to mamma. Some 
other people came in.^^ 

“ He couldn^t fix anything. He^s going away," said 
Aveline. 

“Oh, Ave exclaimed Leo. “ Did you see him— did 
he tell you? Perhaps it^s nonsense. 

“ No, no. It’s quite true. I saw him. He came to call 
at the Ayrtons! Leo," Aveline went on, impressively, 
“ do you remember what I said that evening at home, 
when we were first talking of coming to Paris — that I al- 
most wished Mr. Here ward were not to be here?" 


74 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

“ Yes/^ said Leo, “ I remember."" 

• “ Well,"" said Aveline, “ I wish it more than ever — I 
mean I wish he hadn"t been here. Oh, how I wish it!"" 

“ But why?"" asked the child. “ Perhaps he can"t help 
going away; perhaps he "11 come back soon. You seem as 
unhappy as if — "" 

“ As if what?"" 

As if you thought he didn’t care for you,"" said Leo, 
softly, “ and I am sure he does."" 

Aveline "s face relaxed. 

‘‘ I don’t know,"" she said. ‘‘ I had begun to have a 
most horrible feeling that he despised me — no, not exactly 
that — he is too kind — but that he pitied me, that he thinks 
/care for Mm, and that he"d better go away. Oh, Leo!"" 

“But you caring for him — I mean his seeing you did — 
needn’t prevent his caring for you,” said the little girl, 
simply. “ Don’t work yourself up so about it, Ave. I 
think he’s very good and kind and nice, too nice to have . 
any feelings not quite nice to you. And he may have to 
go away.” 

Aveline sat up, and began to take off her hat. 

“ I could bear anything if I were sure he didn’t at all 
despise me— it’s the only word,” she said. Then, as her 
sister crept nearer her, “ Kiss me, Leo,” she said. “ Oh, 
when you are grown up I do hope I shall be able to keep 
you from being unhappy!” 

The next few days passed in a feverish hope that she 
should see Mr. He re ward before he left, and that something 
— she knew not what — might be said by him to lessen the 
pain she was suffering. She scarcely dared go out, and yet 
it was impossible to stay at home without risking Lady 
Christina’s suspicions that something was the matter. 
For every day brought invitations and proposals for all sorts 
of expeditions from the Ayrtons— more often for Aveline 
alone than for the rest of the Verney party. And on the 
whole, Aveline felt more at ease with gentle, caressing 


MARRY IKG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 75 

Lady Ayrton than within reach of her mother^s sharp 
eyes. Nor was Mr. Ayrton olfensive to her. She grew 
accustomed to his rough, rather boorish manner, looking 
upon him as a somewhat unmannerly but honest dog, whom 
it was easy to keep in good-humor by a pat or a smile, and 
concerning whom no further consideration was necessary. 
And she was too self-absorbed to notice how invariably he 
made one of their expeditions; nay, more, how often Lady 
Ayrton managed to leave her to his escort, and seemed to 
take it for granted that the two young people were the best 
of friends. For he would ramble on for half an hour at a 
time about the only subjects he was conversant with at all 
fit for a young lady^s hearing, his horses and dogs, his 
hunting and shooting, without observing how heedless were 
Aveline^s ears, how superficial her little ejaculations of in- 
terest and her well-bred smiles. 

What she feared came to pass. One afternoon, when 
Lady Ayrton had dropped her at their own door, and 
Aveline, fagged and anxious, came slowly into the drawing- 
room, her mother looked up. 

“ Such a pity you weren^t in five minutes sooner, my 
love,'^ she said. “ Mr. Hereward has just gone — he waited 
to see you to say good-bye — he is off to England on leave 
to-morrow, and hardly expects to return here. He may 
very probably be sent to Home. I thanked him, and all 
that, poor fellow — he has been most good-natured.^^ 

“Yes,^^was all Aveline could say. Something in her 
voice made her mother look up. The girFs face was very 
pale. 

‘‘What can be the' matter with her?^^ thought Lady 
Christina. “ Surely that clumsy Wilfred hasnT spoiled 
everything by proposing to her all of a sudden? Sophia 
promised me there should be nothing premature.'’^ 

“ Was Mr. Ayrton with you to-day ?^^ she went on. 
“ You look very tired, my dear.^^ 

“ I am tired, said Aveline. “ No, Mr. Ayrton didnT 


76 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN M4RRIAGE. 


come. His mother is so kind. I am sorry to have missed 
Mr. Hereward/^ she went on, steadily. 

“ She is only tired/^ thought Lady Christina, and she 
rang for tea — an extra indulgence, for she economized in 
some particulars by doing at Rome as the Romans do, and 
eschewing afternoon tea in Paris except on her reception 
days. 

“ Mamma, said Aveline, grateful in two senses for the 
tea, to-morrow is the day you said I might spend with 
Modeste. I told Lady Ayrton I could not go out with her, 
but she asked me to go to the FranQais with them in the 
evening. She said there was some piece you would like to 
see. Mamma, I should like to go to Modeste. 

Why the idea of Modeste seemed congenial to her she did 
not know — Modeste so happy, she so very miserable! Per- 
haps it was that Modeste knew him and always spoke 
so nicely of him. Modeste, too, would ask no questions. 
“ She will be sorry for me without my needing to tell her 
why,^^ thought Aveline. 

Lady Christina hesitated. 

“ Very well, my dear, I have objection. Only, of 
course, you will be careful. Modeste^ s head will be full of 
her trousseau now that the marriage is so soon to be an- 
nounced.^^ It would do Aveline no harm to think a little 
more of such things, she reflected. 

“ Thank you, mamma,^^ and Aveline rose to go. 

“ Wait a moment, my dear. It is very gratifying to me 
to see how fond Lady Ayrton is of you, Aveline. And Sir 
Francis, too; he was speaking so very nicely of you to me. 

“ They are both very kind. I like them both.^^ 

“ And,^^ Lady Christina went on — “ I think it right to 
allude to this to you, Aveline; you are no longer a child— 
and your father, too, thought I should tell you of it. It is 
not OQily Sir Francis and Lady Ayrton who are fond of you. 
I think— nay, I am sure— that Mr. Ayrton admires you even 
more than they do.^^ 


MAERYING AKD GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


77 


Aveline looked at her mother with a little smile. Sad 
as she was, she could not help smiling at the solemnity 
with which Lady Christina made the announcement. What 
did it matter? 

“ Well, mamma, dear, and if he does — she was begin- 
ning, hut a sudden idea struck her. “ Oh, I see— you are 
afraid of — of the poor man getting any nonsense in his 
head, and that it might be uncomfortable, as they are such 
old friends. I will be very careful, but indeed I don’t think 
I have done anything that you could blame me for.” 

“ Blame you — I have no thought of blaming you. I 
don’t understand you, my dear.” 

“ I mean that I have neither sought nor encouraged his 
admiration,” said Aveline. 

“ But I should not blame you if — if, to a certain extent 
only, of course,” said Lady Christina, faltering a little, 
“ you had done so. You must know that such a marriage 
does not come in a girl’s way every day.” 

Aveline grew white with amazement and — sometliing 
almost approaching horror. 

‘‘ Mamma,” she said, “ you can^i mean that you would 
like me to marry that — that — And papa, you can’t say 
/le would like it. ” 

“ Calm yourself, Aveline,” said her mother, retaining 
her own self-control by a great effort. It would ruin all 
for her to get angry. “It is natural for you to feel 
startled at first. Of course, my dear, we should never 
wish you to do what ^ou did not like. Your father only 
agreed with me that the thing should be alluded to — sug- 
gested to you. He would never — nor would I — lay the 
weight on what we wish, on such a subject. ” 

: Poor Mr. Verney! All he had said or done was to ex- 
press considerable incredulity when his wife hinted that 
Mr. Ayrton’s evident admiration of Aveline did not seem 
displeasing to the girl, and to insist that his daughter 
should not be in any way involved, blindfold as it were, in 


78 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

unconscious or unintended acceptance of the young man’s 
attentions, 

‘‘ Aveline is such a baby in some ways/’ he said, “ I in- 
sist upon your warning her, Christina; or else I shall do it 
myself. I can not believe she can like that loutish fellow. 
Just compare him with Hereward, for instance. If it had 
been he, now.” 

“ Nigel Hereward!” exclaimed Lady Christina. “ What 
are you thinking of, my dear Owen? He has nothing to 
marry on, and no prospects. Aveline is far too sensible to 
dream of such a thing.” 

“ I hope she is,” replied Mr. Verney, not sorry to be- 
lieve it must be so. Such matters were Christina’s busi- 
ness, not his, and he supposed she knew what she was 
about. And then, as was his habit, he dismissed the sub- 
ject from his mind. But his words had not been without 
their effect. 

Aveline grew quiet again. 

“ Thank you, mamma. I knew you would never force 
me to anything utterly distasteful to me,” she said. “ Still, 
I would so much rather you and papa should feel with me 
about everything. ” 

“AVe can but do our best, my dear, and putting old 
heads on young shoulders does not come within that, I 
fear,” said Lady Christina, somewhat bitterly. “I have 
tried to bring you up sensibly, Aveline; but still, I sup- 
pose, you can not realize that life is not all sentiment. 
Hard, practical matters must be considered,” she added, 
with a sigh. 

Her face seemed fagged and care-worn. Aveline, over- 
strung and weakened by all she had gone through, felt a 
rush of pity as she looked at it. It was all she could do to 
prevent herself bursting into tears. 

‘‘ Poor mamma!” she said, stooping to kiss her as she 
went. In her own room the tears did come, fast and 
blindingly. 


MARRYIKG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 79 

“Oh, dear! oh, dear!^^ she sobbed. “Life is very, 
very difficult.-’^ 

She spent the next day at the Rue de Touraine. All 
the three ladies there received her with open arms. But 
Mme. de Boncceur lifted her hands in dismay when she 
first saw her. 

“My child, my child she exclaimed, “what have 
they been doing to you? You look so ill, so white, and I 
could almost fancy you have grown thinner since last 
Thursday. Be very good to her, Modeste,^' as her grand- 
daughter was taking Aveline off to her own quarters. 

“ You do look ill, dear Aveline,” Mile, de Villers said, 
sympathizingly, “ and last Thursday evening you looked 
so bright and beautiful.” 

“ I am not ill, thank you,” Aveline replied, “ but I have 
been troubled since I saw you. Indeed I am so still.” 

Modeste stroked the hand which she was holding in hers, 
and looked at Aveline, hesitatingly. 

“ I can^t think what it is,” she said. “ I — I thought, 
and so did Maurice, that all looked so bright for you. But 
if I were mistaken — your parents would never wish you to 
marry any one if you do not want. ” 

“ No,” said Aveline, “ it isnT that.” 

“ I thought you did care for him,” said Modeste. 

Aveline sighed. 

“ I canT explain,” she said. “ And mamma — I think 
it is best not to say anything — mamma would not like it.” 

“ Naturally,” said Modeste. “ These ‘things are best 
never discussed except with our mothers. Forgive me, 
dear, if I was indiscreet. But do not make yourself so un- 
happy, Aveline. If something has not suited this time — 
well, it is often so. I was sorry myself when I felt I could 
not like some one grandmother liked. But how happy I 
am now. There are so many things to consider in mar- 
riage, you see. Of course our parents have to consider a 


80 MAKRYIKG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

great deal besides what we think of/’ added the practical 
little French girl. 

“ Yes/’ said Aveline, ‘‘ that is just it How far are 
those things to be considered? How far may we consider 
our part of it, as you call it?” 

Modeste shook her head. 

I can’t say, unless I knew all; and that it would 
neither be right for you to tell nor for me to listen to,” 
she said. “ Our parents are the only ones to consult” 

“ Yes, I suppose so,” said Aveline,” sighing. “ But 
things are so different My parents have so much anxiety 
with their large family, and you know [we are not rich, 
Modeste. ” 

Mile, de Villers shook her head sagely. 

“I know,” she said. ‘‘ And you must feel that you 
would do anything to please them.” 

“ I feel, at least, that it would be cruel to displease or 
disappoint them,” Aveline agreed. “ How we have talked 
enough about me — tell me something about yourself, 
Modeste. ” 

“ Yourself,” of course, by this time, meant Maurice de 
Bois-Hubert, his tastes and opinions, his family and home, 
and the whole prospects and intentions of the young 
fiances. The proposed trousseau, too, as Lady Christina 
had prophesied, came in for some share of discussion. So 
the day passed, and Aveline felt, to some extent, soothed 
by Modeste’s affection. Nigel’s name was only once men- 
tioned. 

“ Did you see Mr. Here ward before he went away? I 
suppose he called to say good-bye?” asked Aveline. 

“ Yes, he called the other day, but we were not at 
home,” Modeste replied. “He has not gone away for 
long, has he?” 

“ I think he is not coming back any more,” said Ave- 
line, and Modeste raised her eyebrows in surprise. 

“ But that is not certain, is it?” she said. “ I think my 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 81 

grandmother would have known. He is a great friend of 
hers. ” 

That “ not certain sent Aveline home more cheered 
than by all the kindnesses her friends showered upon her. 

“ Grandmamma/^ said Modeste, when they were alone 
that evening, “ I don^t understand as much about English 
people^s ways as you do, but I don^t think they arrange 
some things very well. 

“ What do you know about it, my little girl?^^ said 
Mme. de Boncceur, amused. “ What things?^' 

“ I don^t think Aveline should be so unhappy, said 
Modeste, answering indirectly. “ Grandmamma, she says 
Monsieur Here ward has gone away for always. 

The old lady looked troubled. 

“ Indeed,^ ^ she said, ‘‘I did not know that. I do not 
understand it, my child. But if it be that he is too poor, 
or some difficulty of that kind — for I am sure he cares for 
her — I shall indeed think that her mother has been much 
to blame. She,^^ she went on as if speaking to herself, 
“ who was indirectly accusing us — us French parents— of 
heartless disregard of our children's feelings. 

Aveline went to the Fran9ais that evening with Lady 
Ayrton and her son. The piece was a serious one, and as 
much above Mr. Ayrton^s comprehension as it was con- 
trary to his taste. After vainly endeavoring to stifle his 
yawns, he turned to Aveline in hopes of finding sympathy. 

I canT stand this, ^pon my soul — can you. Miss Ver- 
. nOy?^^ he said, with an expression of suffering which 
almost made her laugh. ‘‘ My French does well enough 
, when it^s a play with any common-sense, but I canT make 
head or tail of this — ^pon my soul, I can^t.^^ 

“ I^m very sorry for you, Mr. Ayrton, said Aveline. 

“ I find it very interesting — and you must allow the acting 
is good.^^ 

He looked rather discomfited. 

'^You’re so con — youYe so very good-natured, Miss 


82 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


Veruey/^ he began, edging rather nearer to her. “ You 
wouldn^t think it rude of me to cut this, would you? 1^11 
be back in time to take you home. You’ll make it right 
with my lady?” 

‘‘ Very well,” said Aveline, glad to be left in peace, 
whereupon he left the box with a nod. 

“ Has Wilfred gone?” asked Lady Ayrton, suddenly 
awaking to the fact. 

“ He told me to say he would return to take us home. 
He found the piece very dull, I’m afraid,” said Miss Yer- 
ney, with a smile. 

Lady Ayrton sighed a little. 

“Poor Wilfred,” she said. “ He is not at all intel- 
lectual, Aveline — not like Sir Francis. ” 

“ Intellect is not everything, however. Lady Ayrton,” 
said Aveline, consolingly. “ He may be a good, kind son, 
and a great comfort to you without being intellectual. ” 

His mother smiled with pleasure, yet her conscience 
smote her a little as she replied, “ True, my dear — and I 
think, yes, I really think, under good influence he might 
make a kind husband. It would be delightful for his 
father and me if he married as we wish.” 

“ Yes,” said Aveline, dreamily, hardly hearing what 
was said. Her mind was running on the words in which 
Modeste had suggested more comfort than she knew — 
“ perhaps it is not certain.” 

But the days passed, and no allusion was made to Mr. 
Here ward’s possible return. And a vague, scarcely ac- 
knowledged hope that “ he might write ” faded gradually 
away. Aveline saw but little of her father at that time, . 
less than in England, but on Sunday, on their way to 
church, Mr. Verney, who was walking alone with her, 
startled her by a sudden observation. 

“ You are not looking well, Ave. And when we first 
came over you were full of life and spirits. ” 

“ I am not ill, papa, thank you,” she replied. “ Per- 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 83 

haps there was some excitement when we first came — the 
change and the novelty and all — that made me seem live- 
lier than usual. You know it is my nature to be quiet — 
like you, papa.^^ 

He gave her one of his glances from under his rough 
eyebrows. 

‘ ‘ Are you beginning to find out that life is not such an 
easy business, poor child?^’ he said, with a kind of abrupt 
tenderness. “ Ah, well, I suppose it canH be helped, 
and he sighed. 

‘‘ Papa dear, what are you sighing for? Are you 
troubled about things?^ ^ said Aveline. 

“ Well, yes, my dear, I can-’t say that things are going 
smoothly just now. I^m afraid this Paris business has 
been a mistake. It is costing more than we expected, and 
the London house has not let. Then I am bothered about 
Chris, Ave. It is evident heTl never pass his examination 
straight from school. I must send him to a crammer^s 
for a year, and it's a very expensive business. And next 
year there will be Arthur — " 

“ Yes," said Aveline, “it is hard. I wish I could do 
anything to help you, papa." 

“ Try and get back your spirits, my dear. I don't like 
to see you looking pale and dull." 

They were at the church door by now — there was no 
time for more. 

Coming out, they were joined by Lady Ayrton and her 
son. The former attached herself to Mr. Verney. 

“ I want you to use your influence to help me in a little 
scheme I have set my heart upon, dear Mr. Verney," she 
began with her soft, caressing manner. “ Aveline is not 
looking well—" 

“No," said her father, “ that is true." 

“ I want to take her off with us to Fontainebleau for a 
few days," said Lady Ayrton; “ we are going there on 
Wednesday or Thursday. There are some people staying 


84 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

there whom we know, and if it keeps fine we could have 
some picnics and nice drives. Will you let Aveline come?” 

“ I have no objection, if the child would like it. I dare 
say it would do her good. But you must speak to Chris- 
tina,^^ he replied. Some vague misgiving came over him 
as he caught sight of Mr. Ayrton’s well-dressed, groom- 
like figure at Aveline’s side in front of them. 

She’d never look at him, and Christina has Warned’; 
her. And the mother’s a good soul. What a pity the son: 
is what he is! It would have been a safe future for her.” 

Aveline had got to the stage of hope deferred when it 
mattered very little to her where or with whom she was. 
She liked Lady Ayrton’s gentleness, and she dreaded her 
mother’s sharp eyes. So she made po objection, even 
faintly expressed some pleasure at the idea of going to Fon- 
tainebleau. 

She stayed there a week, and came home looking more 
like herself. The afternoon of her return she sought her 
mother in her own room, where Lady Christina had estab- 
lished her davenport and neatly arranged bills and papers 
as at home. 

‘‘ Mamma,” she began, “ if you are not busy — ” 

“lam rather busy, my dear — when am I not? But if 
you want to speak to me, I can attend to you. ” 

A faint fiutter of hope made itself felt in the maternal 
breast. Could Aveline have “anything to tell”? She 
did not look elated or excited, certainly, as she stood there, 
her fingers idly playing with the tassel of her parasol, her 
blue eyes gazing half-dreamily out of the open window, 
through which a little breeze, fiuttering softly, waved the 
clustering hair on her forehead — a fair picture, with her 
quiet face and serious mouth, for a mother to gaze upon, 
though too subdued, too grave for her twenty years. 

“ She is so unlike other girls,” thought Lady Christina. 
“ One can never judge of her.” 

And “ Well, Aveline?” she said, aloud. 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


85 


“ I only wanted to tell you, mamma/ ^ Aveline replied — 
“ I thought it was right you should know. What you 
once hinted at — about the Ayrtons, about Mr. Ayrton — 
has come true. At Fontainebleau he asked me to marry 
him. 

Lady Christina gasped with anxiety. 

“ And — ^you — ^you replied?^^ 

“ I told him, of course, I did not care for him in the 
ieast,^^ said Aveline. “ But I told it him gently — as gen- 
tly and kindly as I could. I felt sorry for him, mamma. 
I should not have expected I would, but I did. I think he 
did care, more than I thought him capable of, poor man, 
so I said it as kindly as I could. So I hope it will cause 
no uncomfortable feeling with his mother. ” 

She spoke with perfect composure, whereas as she went 
on speaking Lady Christina^s suspense and excitement rose 
to almost boiling point. 

“You told him you did not care for him? Do you 
mean — oh, no, you canH mean that you refused him, Ave- 
line? You said you would try to learn to care for him — 
you held out some hope?’^ 

What hope could I hold out, mamma, if I did not care 
for him?'^ replied the girl, with a tone of calm reproach 
infinitely irritating to her mother. 

Lady Christina moved away — scalding tears rose to her 
eyes — she felt choking. 

“ Oh, Aveline, she said, ‘‘ you break my heart 

‘‘Mamma!’' exclaimed her daughter. 

“ Yes, you do. To refuse such a marriage — such a 
home, such prospects as you would have, all for a piece of 
sentimental fancy. You allow that you were sorry for 
him, that you believe in his sincerity; you have said a 
dozen times that you thought him kind-hearted and hon- 
est, only not clever; you are very fond of his father and 
mother; what would you have? There is something in 
your mind that you have not told me. Can it be, is it possi- 


8G MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

ble that you have been cherishing any groundless nonsense 
about any one else? If so, the sooner you discard it the 
better. Tell me the truth, Aveline.^^ 

“ Mamma,^^ said Aveline, growing very pale, ‘‘ what do 
you mean?^’ 

“ You know what I mean,^^ replied Lady Christina, 
speaking more calmly; ‘‘ I mean Mr. Hereward. You 
must have known he was not what is called ‘ a marrying 
man,^ that he is far too poor to marry. 

“ I knew he was poor— at least not rich,^’ said Aveline. 
“ But papa was not rich when you married mamma. 
People do marry without being rich.^^ 

“ Yes, and live to repent it. I am not referring to my 
own case — it was not so rash at the time; for things might 
and should have turned out better. But Mr. Hereward is 
decidedly "poor — completely and entirely out of the ques- 
tion, and with no prospects. And even more than that — 

“ What, mamma?’ ^ 

“If you were not such a 'very childish girl you would 
have seen he was not the sort of a man for a girl to think 
of, except as a pleasant partner. He goes everywhere 
when he is in England, knows every one, and is a great 
favorite. He is not exactly a flirt; but everybody knows 
his attentions mean nothing, can not mean anything. 
Why, only last week I heard of him as amusing himself 
tremendously somewhere or other. What girl or lady was 
it he was so devoted to? — I can’t remember. I will look 
for the letter. ” 

“ Ho,” said Aveline, “ you need not.” 

“ If I had had any idea you were so silly,” her mother 
went on, “I would not have asked, him here so much, or 
let you see him. But I thought you had more sense — ^you 
might never have lived out of a village, Aveline! I can 
not bear to think of the young man having perhaps seen 
how silly you were. He will have thought you too absord 
— he always talks so openly about his position — he would 


MARKYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


87 


regret such a foolish misunderstanding of his ordinary 
friendliness to every pretty girl, more than any one! But I 
must say it is not what I expected of my daughter.” 

“ Mamma,’^ began Aveline, but her lips were dry and 
parched; it seemed as if her words could not pass them — 

Mamma, you have said enough. Neither Mr. Here ward 
nor any man shall have reason either to despise or pity me. 
I only ask you one thing — never let this subject' be named 
again. 

‘‘ I am sure I have no wish ever to revert to it,^-’ said 
Lady Christina. And then, even she felt she had done 
and said enough for one morning. 

A week later Aveline returned from an afternoon spent 
with Lady Ayrton, and walked straight into the drawing- 
room, where her mother was sitting alone. 

“ I want to tell you, mamma,^-’ she said, that Mr. 
Ayrton has to-day repeated his offer to me — and I have ac- 
cepted him.^^ 

My good child — my sweet Aveline, exclaimed Lady 
Christina, rapturously. But the cheeks which received the 
kisses she showered upon them were as cold as ice. 


CHAPTER ^ VII. 

No rose — so at least says the proverb, and in so saying 
serves the purpose of a proverb’s existence, to which strict 
veracity is not essential — no rose, we are told, is without 
its thorn — in other words, no joy is without its drawback. 
And so Lady Christina found to her cost in the days which 
immediately succeeded Aveline’s acceptance of Mr. Ayr- 
ton’s suit. It was rather hard upon her, poor woman!-, 
she was so ready, so anxious to rejoice, so brimming ovei 
with satisfaction and approval, so effusively deh'ghted with 
her daughter — it surely was hard upon her that Aveline, 
the meek, the appealing, who hitherto had been exagger- 


88 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

atedly grateful for any crumb of maternal favor, should 
suddenly incase herself in a suit of invisible -but most effi- 
cient armor, on whose smooth, cold surface it was impossi- 
ble to make any impression. 

She has always been a queer, tiresome girl,^^ said the 
mother to herself, when a few days’ persistence in this at- 
titude on Aveline’s part had at last worn out her patience, 
to the extent at least of owning to herself the girl’s “ tire- 
someness.” I am sure, if it were not that we are so 
poor, and the future, with such a family, so uncertain, I 
would really have left Aveline to manage her own affairs, 
and be an old maid if she chose. For, as to marrying a 
man like Nigel Hereward, without a penny, so to speak, 
there is happily no chance of that— men have more sense 
nowadays, however silly girls are. And of course he never 
dreamed of anything serious. But small thanks, truly, 
one gets in this world for doing one’s duty, even from 
one’s children!” 

There was perhaps some slight consolation in fancying 
herself a martyr; and even had it been still slighter, it was 
all that Lady Christina was likely to get from any quarter. 
For to every one save her mother Aveline was more charm- 
ing than she had ever been before, so that the poor lady 
had to listen with a smihng countenance to praises of her 
daughter which found but faint echo in her heart, though 
she would have died rather than allow this to be seen. 
Even with Aveline herself she never took off the mask or 
permitted her real vexation to appear. An underlying, 
undefined, though not indefinable instinct warned her that 
it was best so — she would avoid the thin ice without seem- 
ing to have the faintest suspicion of its existence — she 
would skate along cheerily with apparently perfect satis- 
faction that the chief person concerned could not be enjoy- 
ing herself more. And in this she was wise; it was in fact 
the only position consistently open to her. 

For even Mr. Verney seemed just now to have got on to 


MAKRYIKO AKD GIYIITG m MARRIAGE. 


89 


the sunshiny side of tho road with all the others in some 
incomprehensible and rather irritating way. Only Lady 
Christina was left out in the cold. Nohlesse ohlige, how- 
ever; she would bear it and grin, and nobody should sup- 
pose she had anything to bear. Even when, as happened 
more than once, she detected some little outward expres- 
sion of affection or sympathy pass between the father and 
daughter, when Aveline slipped her hand inside Mr. Ver- 
ney"s arm, or he patted her soft fair head when he left 
them in the morning. Lady Christina tried to feel de- 
lighted. 

“ He might have taken it into his head to oppose it — it 
is really fortunate that he is reasonable enough to see the 
advantages, of it. But all the same he might- give some lit- 
tle credit where credit is due. This last with the fine in- 
consistency of the British matron, who, while secretly con- 
gratulating herself on the success of her wise diplomacy, is 
at the same moment ready — and, incredible as it may 
seem, ready in all honesty — to express her conviction that 

made marriages are immoral, and that interference in 
such matters is terribly dangerous. 

She had not been present at the little scene between her 
husband and child the very evening on which Aveline^s 
engagement was announced, nor had she heard what 
passed. 

“ Let me tell papa myself, please, had been Aveline ^s 
only request; and the girl had done so. Lady Christina 
made some excuse for leaving them alone in the dining- 
room after dinner, and Aveline then told her tale. 

“Papa,^^ she said, quietly, but without the freezing 
coldness of manner which had roused her mother^s indig- 
nation, “ Papa, I have something to tell you. Mr. Ayrton 
asked me to-day to marry him, and I have accepted him. 
He is coming to see you to-morrow, and I think Sir Fran- 
cis Ayrton will want you to go to see him, as he canH 
come here. 


90 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

Mr. Verney sat for a moment or two in absolute silence. 

“ Papa,^^ said Aveline again, with a kind of fear or ap- 
prehension in her voice. 

Then he turned round and looked her full in the face. 
“ Ave/^ he said, and the anxious look in his eyes made 
him seem almost haggard — “Av6, 1 don^t understand. 
There has been some question of this before — has there 
not? Your mother told me something, vaguely, a few 
days ago. She said you couldn^t make up your mind, and 
I took that to mean you didn^t like the — Mr. Ayrton, but 
that you wanted to get out of it quietly, not to vex your 
mother. And so what does this mean now?^^ 

Aveline stood before him, quietly still, but her eyes were 
bent on the ground. Then she raised them, and said, with 
a slight smile — 

“ I suppose, papa, it is that I have changed my mind.^^ 

“ But you donT love him; you.can^t care for him?^^ said 
Mr. Verney. 

Aveline hesitated. 

‘‘ I don^t dislike him, papa. I like him ever, oh, ever 
so much better than I used to do, now that I have seen 
more of him. He is like a rough but kindly boy in many 
ways — and — it does help to make me like him that he 
should like me; that he should have chosen me for myself 
—for, as mamma says, I have no fortune, and that is what 
most people think of nowadays. And no doubt he might 
marry far better, if he liked.’' 

Mr. Verney groaned. It was strange to hear this world- 
ly view of matters from Aveline’s innocent lips; strange 
and sad, even though the way in which she expressed her- 
self showed her own simplicity and unworldliness the more 
clearl}^ Full well did he know who bad suggested it. 
Yet he felt that in honesty he could not deny that there 
was some truth in what she said. But another question 
liovered on his tongue. 

“ Assure me of one thing at least, my child— you care 


MARRYIKG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 91 

for no one more?” he was on the point of saying, when he 
stopped short. His diplomatic training had taught him to 
beware of suggesting objections; too well he knew how a 
word of overcaution, of misgiving, may call into positive 
existence, may give definite form and substance to vague 
and unrealized possibilities, that would otherwise have 
faded into nothing ere they were born. 

“ If there is any one it is Here ward, he reflected; 
“ and if Hereward it be, all the better if she has not owned 
it to herself. For they coiildnH marry— Christina is right 
enough there — he has no prospects whatever; and even if 
he cared for her, he is too honorable to show it, and then 
there would be heart-breakings, and Heaven knows what.^^ 

So the words die on his lips. But Aveline stood waiting 
to hear what he was going to say. 

I don^t like you to talk like that,” he said. “ My 
darling, do you think the man could find plenty of girls 
like you to marry, be they penniless or not?” 

Aveline for the first time changed color a little, but it 
was with pleasure. 

“ I don^t know,^^ she said; “ I suppose he could. But 
I like you to think me nicer than other girls, dear papa, of 
course. And,” she went on eagerly, as if glad to get to 
this part of the subject, “ there is one thing I can set your 
mind at rest about thoroughly, and that is about his — Mr. 
Ayrton’s people. Whoever I married, papa, I could never 
like his father and mother better ' than, no, nor as much 
as, I like Sir Francis and Lady Ayrton. They are so good 
and kind to me.” 

“ Yes,” replied her father, “ I believe they are to be re- 
lied upon.” Still he spoke moodily, and sat with his eyes 
staring before him. “ But Sir Francis Ayrton is in very 
bad health. He can not live very long, and, if he were 
dead, you would be altogether at the mercy of that — ” 
He broke off and sat silent again. “Aveline,” he went 


93 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


on at last, “ are you determined upon this? Do you 
know what you^re about? I have no actual right or reason 
to forbid it, for if I died. Heaven only knows what would 
become of us all. But — do you know what you’re about?” 

“ Yes,” said Aveline, steadily, ‘‘ I think I do.” 

Then she kissed him and went away. 

Mr. Verney remained sitting where she had left him. 

“ No use saying anything more at present,” he reflect- 
ed. “ She’s not* going to be married to him to-morrow, 
nor the day after. The thing may not go through. If I 
found out anything actually bad about the fellow I’d have 
to stop it, and — I should not be sorry. Still, there is truth 
in what she says. And, practically speaking, no doubt it 
would be an immense relief to have one of them thorough- 
ly well provided for. She would be awfully good to the 
others, and she could afford to be so. But I hope, I ear- 
nestly hope, she hasn’t thought too much of this. I trust 
Christina has not been working on the girl’s unselflshness.” 
Then he got up and lit a cigar and sat down again. “ I 
must keep my eyes open,” he said to himself, “ though it 
isn’t easy just now, when I hardly ever am at home.” 

On the whole, however, his face looked a trifle less care- 
worn than before the conversation with Aveline. But 
when, later in the evening. Lady Christina came softly into 
the room, and, glancing at him, felt encouraged to broach 
the great subject, she found “ Owen ” less responsive than 
she had been led to hope by the calm expression of his 
face. 

“ Our dear girl — Aveline — has— she has been speaking 
to you?” she began, doubting a little, as she went on, if 
indeed Aveline had done so. 

Mr. Verney slowly took his cigar from between his lips. 

“Yes,” he said. “But if you please, Christina, I 
don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to object or 
interfere, you needn’t be afraid of that; but I’d rather not 
talk about it — not at present, any way.” 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 93 

So thus, for the second time. Lady Christiiia^s effusive 
satisfaction had to be repressed. 

It might have been expected, nevertheless, that even 
failing response from the members of her own house, she 
was sure of completest sympathy in the success of their 
joint scheme on the part of her co-conspirator, her dear 
Sophia Ayrton. And Lady Ayrton was qidte ready to give 
it, and in no stinted measure. 

But — it was not somehow the sort of sypapathy Christina 
wanted, and of this she was conscious even the very first 
morning, when Mr. Ayrton ^s mother hastened to her friend 
at an unearthly hour, and, after rapturously kissing and 
hugging all of the family she came across, retired with her 
to discuss it together in private. True, Lady Ayrton 
kissed Lady Christina again with the tears in her mild 
eyes, assuring her she would henceforth love her better 
than ever; but, this tribute paid to her friend^s personal 
claims, she launched off into such praise of Aveline, such 
reiteration of her sweetness, her affectionateness, her gen- 
eral incomparableness, that it grew rather wearisome. 
Far rather would Lady Christina have heard some interest- 
ing details as to practical matters, but all such considera- 
tions Sophia waived aside — “ Francis will go into every- 
thing with your husband,^ ^ she said. It will be all 
perfectly right. If only we — Wilfred, of course, first of 
all — can make that dear child of yours happy, I shall ask 
no more,^^ and again the teai-s showed signs of appearing. 
Lady Christina had to get out her handkerchief to hide her 
irritation. 

“ Why should she not be happy, my dear Sophia?^^ she 
said, after a moment^s pause. “ She will have everything 
a girl can ask to make her so.^^ “Sophia is really too 
sentimental for anything,^ ^ she said to herself. 

“I do hope it— I do indeed. So sweet of you to say 
so!’^ said Lady Ayrton. 

“ She would be a very unreasonable and ungrateful girl 


94 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


if she were not happy/’ added Lady Christina, with the 
slightest possible touch of testiness in her tone, which her 
friend dimly perceived, though without understanding its 
cause. 

“ She is a dear girl,” she replied, vaguely; “ and you 
have brought her up splendidly, Christina.” 

“ I have done my best,” Lady Christina replied, slightly 
mollified. She had no objection to Aveline’s being praised 
when her perfections were traced to their true source; at 
the same time it was irritating to perceive that the girl 
was showing herself at her best to the Ayrtons, exerting 
herself, in a manner not usual with her, to be bright and 
attractive, affectionate and responsive, to these strangers, 
and to her mother — to the one who deserved it all — com- 
porting herself with a cold indifference of manner almost 
resembling tacit reproach! 

And, strange to say, Aveline’s cheerfulness was, in a 
sense, sincere. Had she not felt, one might almost say, 
happy, it was not in her to have acted the part, and for 
some little time the fictitious house of content which she 
had erected for herself appeared to her a real and sufficient- 
ly agreeable dwelling-place. Many things combined to 
foster this illusion. Wilfred Ayrton was at his best. He 
was sincerely obliged to Aveline for having reconsidered 
her first decision, for he had gone through some days of 
sharp anxiety lest he should after all lose the promised 
bribe, feeling sure that on him alone would fall Sir Fran- 
cis’s displeasure should his suit be rejected. And as in 
him an almost incredible amount of self-conceit was united 
to more grossly sordid defects, he did not, strange to say, 
altogether disbelieve in the unworldliness of the girl’s mo- 
tives. 

“ You’re a deal luckier than you deserve to be,” had 
been his father’s somewhat uncomplimentaiy congratula- 
tion. “ Try to be worthy of her liking and friendliness, if 
you can. You can’t flatter yourself that she’s in love with 


MARRYIKG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 95 

you; but — such things do turn out decently now and then, 
after all, though I take no responsibility in the matter, 
mind you. 

“I don^t see why — Wilfred began, but hesitated. 
Dread of his father^s caustic tongue was perhaps the acutest 
intellectual sensation of which he was capable. You are 
not very flattering to your son, sir,^^ he added, with a 
clumsily self-conscious laugh. 

Sir Francis looked at him with an expression, sardonic, 
satirical, and contemptuous, yet traversed by gleams of 
positively genial amusement quite impossible to describe. 

Upon my soul!^^ he ejaculated. But for Mr. Ayrton 
it was quite enough; he made no further attempt at self- 
assertion with his father. 

And on second thoughts that gentleman was glad he had 
said no more. 

‘‘ Better let him imagine she is in love with him than 
suggest any other motive, which he is incapable of appreci- 
ating,^^ he reflected. “ Poor little girl — she is in love with 
self-sacrifice, I fear. Thank God, iPs the women, not I, 
that have had to do with it. The audacity, the reckless- 
ness of women — even a soft fool like Sophia, ‘ rushing in 
where angels fear to tread ^ — passes belief. But if it^s to 
be, ITl do what I can for the child, provided only she cares 
for no one else;^^ and as this thought crossed his mind a 
certain recollection caused the invalid’s thin, resolute face 
to grow sad and stern. ‘‘ If that were so, I should indeed 
tremble for her.” 

He was not a little surprised and puzzled, though, on the 
other hand, relieved, to see the young girl looking genu- 
inely happy when she came to receive the good wishes of 
her future father-in-law. 

“ Upon my soul, my dear Miss Verney,” he said, “ I 
have never seen you so blooming. I may really congratu- 
late you, then? You are not frightened out of your wits at 
the idea of becoming the daughter of an old bear like me?” 


96 MAREYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

** It^s the part of it — began Aveline, but she checked 
herself suddenly; “ the part of it all I like the best/^ she 
was going to have said. “ Ifc is one thing that makes me 
really happy,” she began again, “ to think that you and 
dear Lady Ayrton are pleased. I don’t think it can al- 
ways be the case in such matters that, that — ” and then 
she stopped, and smiled a little, and blushed a little. 

‘^That a new daughter should meet with such a wel- 
come,” said Sir Francis. “ My dear, if it were not so in 
this case we should indeed be hard to please. I could wdsh 
for no happier fortune for my son than to call you his 
wife; no greater blessing for myself during the few weary 
years that may still remain to me than to call you my 
daughter. ” 

“ Thank you,” said Aveline, very gently. She was at 
all times impressionable, and at the present juncture in a 
far more high-strung condition than she had any concep- 
tion of. The tears crept quietly into her eyes, and Sir 
Francis saw them, though he took care to look as if he did 
not. 

“ Surely,” thought Aveline, “ surely, if it makes so 
many people happy, I must be doing right. If only, ” and 
here was the sore root of bitterness — “if only mamma 
had kept to telling me it would be a good thing for them 
all, and a comfort to her and papa, without saying those 
dreadful things. Why couldn’t she understand — she once 
was a girl herself — why couldn’t she understand that I 
could have given up all thoughts of him quite as thorough- 
ly, and oh, so much less bitterly, if she had just let me 
know it couldn’t be — but that, if things had been differ- 
ent, it might have been? Why did she make me feel so 
dreadfully, so miserably ashamed.’^ 

But she pulled herself up suddenly when it dawned upon 
her that Sir Francis was speaking. 

“ I beg your pardon,” she said, hastily; “ I am afraid I 
didn’t hear what you were saying.” 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


97 


“ Never mind, my dear, yon have plenty of other things 
to think of. I was only asking what your plans are. I 
must not take up too much of your time. 

I have come to stay till the afternoon,^ ^ said Aveline. 
‘‘ I am going out with Lady Ayrton and your son. ” 

Speak of the , we'll suppress the rest," said Mr. 

Ayrton's voice, and he burst into a noisy laugh at his own 
wit as he entered the room. But Aveline was not inclined 
to be hard upon him; she always felt a little sorry for the 
young man in his father's presence, and she saw that the 
noisiness was to cover some amount of nervousness, or 
whatever answered to that in Mr. Ayrton's organization. 

“ There is a prettier version of that proverb," she said, 
gently; anxious to put father and son at their ease. 

“ There said Sir Francis, with his thin, cjmical 
chuckle; “ but, sorry as I am to adopt your suggestion, 
my dear Aveline, I confess I do not see its appropriateness 
in the present instance." For the old trick of sneering at 
his son was too strong upon him. Aveline reddened a little 
and glanced at her future father-in-law with reproach in 
her eyes. Wilfred stared at them both in bewilderment. 

‘‘ The joke's beyond me," he said, with a kind of rough 
good-nature. 

“ And it is certainly not worth explaining," said Sir 
Francis, in a tone which Aveline felt was intended to ex- 
press penitence. 

“ I've been speaking to Aveline about riding, sir," he 
began. It's a shame she shouldn't have some just now 
— it's just the weather for it." 

Are you fond of riding, my dear?" asked Sir Francis. 
Yes— I think so. But I have ridden very little," said 
the girl. 

There was not much enthusiasm in her tone — yet, a few 
weeks ago, how she and Nigel Ilereward had longed for a 
canter in the Bois! 

“ Should I have to ride alone with him V* was the un- 

4 


98 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

spoken tliouglit in her mind. But no sooner did she recog- 
nize it than she felt shocked at herself. “ I dare say I 
should like it very much/^ she added, bravely, “ if it 
could be managed. 

“ Managed? — of course it can be,^^ said Wilfred. “ I’ll 
telegraph to-day to Mackworth and see which of the horses 
he thinks would do best.” 

“ And who would go with you?” asked Lady Ayrton, 
who had followed her son into the room. ‘‘I wish????/ 
riding days were not over, for your sake, dear Aveline,” 
she added, plaintively. 

“ I don’t know the horse that would carry you if they 
weren’t,” said her son, coarsely; “ but, for that matter, 
why need we have any one? I flatter myself I can look 
after one young lady — I’ve managed three or four before 
now.” 

“ It would not do here,” said Lady Ary ton, quickly; 
“ if we were at home in the country it would be quite dif- 
ferent, of course.” 

“ Bother!” said Wilfred, “ what’s the sense of minding 
all these rubbishing French ideas? We^re not French, 
thank goodness. But I say,” as a brilliant idea struck 
him, “ I know some ladies who’d join us in a jiffy. Those 
Miss Greenfliers — they ride every day. You remember 
them, my lady, at Pau — awfully jolly girls.” 

Lady Ayrton put some constraint on herself to reply 
quietly, 

“ Do you mean those Americans? No, I don’t think 
they would suit Aveline at all.” 

“ She isn’t your wife yet,” said Sir Francis, in a low 
but stern voice to his son; and Aveline, who caught the 
words, gave an involuntary shiver. She had now been en- 
gaged a week to Mr. Ayrton, though it was the first time 
Sir Francis had been well enough to see his daughter-in- 
law elect, and this interview, to which she had been look- 


MARRYmG AlTD GIVIl^G IN MARRIAGE. 


99 


ing forward with some kind of pleasure, threatened to 
leave her in clouds of misgiving. 

His father^s tone acted as a cold shower-bath on Mr. 
Ayrton. In an ordinary state of matters the young man 
would have sullenly left the room. But the good-humor 
born of his present success and agreeable prospects — which 
he was not fool enough to desire to risk — came to the res- 
cue. 

“ If that little sister of yours, now, could ride, she’d 
satisfy the proprieties, wouldn’t she?” he said to Aveline. 

I suppose so,” said Miss Verney, smiling. Mr. Ayr- 
ton’s good-nature had restored her cheerfulness for the mo- 
ment. “ His father is too hard upon him, poor fellow,” 
she thought. 

And Sir Francis, seeming to divine her feeling, hastened 
to repair his blunder. 

It would be just as easy to get two ladies’ horses over 
as one,” he said, amiably. 

“We must ask your mother about it,” said Lady Ayr- 
ton. “ It would be a nice change for Leo to ride; don’t 
you think she would enjoy it, Aveline?” 

“ I — I am not quite sure,” said Aveline, blushing a lit- 
tle, for in her heart she knew that her sister would like or 
enjoy no plan which included Mr. Ayrton’s company. Leo 
was the one not to be won over; she had never been so misera- 
ble in her short life as since the announcement of Ave’s 
engagement to “ that vulgar little groom,” and indeed for 
some time she had sturdily refused to believe in it. 

“ Eubbish,” said Mr. Ayrton, elegantly. “ She should 
be only too jolly pleased to get such a chance.” 

“ She would have an excellent opportunity of acquiring 
an accurate and graceful way of expressing herself, in your 
company, my dear Wilfred. I trust, Aveline, you are quite 
sensible of the advantages of this kind held out to you,” 
said Sir Francis, gravely. 

It was impossible not to laugh, but this time Wilfred’s 


100 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

surface good-nature was not proof against his father’s gib- 
ing. He muttered something “ not loud but deep/’ and 
for an instant Aveline shivered at the scowl which over- 
spread his heavy features. Lady Ayrton interposed with 
nervous haste, and for her sake Miss Verney was glad to 
respond at once. 

“ Is mamma going to call for me?” she said. “ No, I 
am going to see Mademoiselle de Villers, if it would be 
convenient to you to drive me round that way instead of 
home. ” 

“ Certainly, my love. Then, if you are ready, I think 
we had better go. Wilfred, just see if the carriage is ready. 
I think it is. I said in five minutes.” 

“It is too bad of Francis to tease so; he often does 
when he is suffering more than usual,” she said to Aveline, 
as they were walking down-stairs together. 

“ Yes,” the girl replied, “ I understand.” 

She spoke so indifferently that Lady Ayrton hoped the 
little scene had made no impression on her. But inwardly 
the girl was quaking with apprehension. “ Does he often 
look like that?” she was asking herself; “ and does his 
mothor know it?” 

It was a jiale and depressed-looking Aveline who entered 
Mme. de Boncoeur’s salon to receive her friends’ good wishes 
on her engagement, even though Mr. Ayrton had recov- 
ered his good-humor long before they reached the Rue de 
Touraine, and had condescended to make some clumsy 
jokes on his -fiancee's liking for “ chattering old French- 
women.” 


CHAPTER VHI. 

They were expecting her. All three ladies rose from 
their seats when Aveline entered, and came forward eager- 
ly to meet her. For a moment or two she was kissed — on 
both cheeks— and caressed and murmured over to such an 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


101 


extent that she scarcely knew where she was, and the little 
demonstration served one good purpose, for when it was 
over she was flushed and excited, so that even Mme. de 
Boncoeur^s keen old eyes were deceived. 

“ She is looking brilliant, the dear child, exclaimed 
Modeste’s grandmother, joyfully. For, truth to tell, since 
the announcement of Miss Verney^s engagement the old 
lady had had misgivings on the subject, though loyalty to 
Lady Christina had prevented her expressing them. I 
must kiss you again, my dear,^^ and so she did. To 
think that a whole week should have passed since we heard 
the news, and that only now do we see you to wish you joy. 

I — I wanted very much to see you and dear Modeste,^^ 
said Aveline, ‘‘ but somehow, ever since the day you called, 
when I was so sorry to miss you, I seem to have been so 
busy.^^ 

“ Naturally; that is easily understood,^^ said the old 
lady. ‘‘ Now, my children, I am sure you will like to be 
by yourselves for a little. Take your friend to your own 
quarters, Modeste, but bring her back to say a word to us 
on her way. You can stay an hour or two, dear Aveline?^^ 

Till flve; then Leo and her governess will call for 
me,'’^ replied Miss Verney, as sheYvent away with Mile, de 
Villers. 

‘‘I am glad to see the child looking well,^^ said Mme. 
de BoDCoeur to her daughter, when they were left alone. 
“ I had — ah, well! perhaps I should not say it. I did not 
felt sure of this affair being for her happiness. And even 
now, I confess, I scarcely understand it. But tastes differ 
— fortunately. 

Mme. de Villers looked up from her embroidery-frame, 
questioningly. 

Do you think she is looking well?’^ she said, in her 
slow, impassive way. “ She was flushed and somewhat 
agitated at flrst, but afterward, when the color faded, I 
thought her pale, and anxious-looking. Still, there can be 


102 


MAKRYIl^G AND GIVING IN MAKRIAGE. 


no reason for it; I donH think I quite understand your 
misgivings, mother/^ 

‘‘It is very easy to understand — you should not force 
-one to say things in a disagreeable, definite way, Alice; it 
does not sound nice,^^ said the old lady, testily. “ Of 
course I meant that I doubted if the child herself wishes 
this marriage. Christina is a good woman, but — these 
huge families: they make some women practical to the 
verge of becoming unscrupulous.^^ 

Mme. de Villers looked up in surprise. 

“ I thought — she began. 

“ IN’ever mind what you thought, exclaimed her moth- 
er; “ / think Christina Verney at heart as worldly as any 
French mother of the old days that ever lived. Ah, bah! 
Never mind — I tire myself for. nothing. But tell me, you 
doiiH think that poor child looking well?^^ 

“ No,^^ replied the younger lady, “ I do not. 

“We must see what Modeste says, murmured Mme. de 
Boncoeur. 

Modeste, poor girl, was feeling at that moment very 
much at a loss what to say or what to think. She had met 
Aveline effusively, expecting to find her so happy in her 
new prospects that it would be easy to conceal her own 
want of sympathy in their attractiveness. For Mr. Ayrton 
had not — her readiness to see everything English in the most 
favorable light notwithstanding — agreeably impressed Mile, 
de Villers; nor, which in her eyes was much more impor- 
tant, had he won the golden opinion of her fiance, Mau- 
rice de Bois-Hubert. 

“ Ah, indeed!” had been that young gentleman's com- 
mentary on the news. “ I am disappointed, I had thought 
your pretty friend's little drama was to have a different 
ending. What, then, has become of the great, handsome 
Englishman who talked French so well? Gone? Ah, that 
is a pity. Well, well, tastes differ, fortunately.” Tho 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


103 


same reflection with which Mme. de Boncoeur was fain to 
console herself. 

“ I am so glad to see you again at last, dear Aveline,^^ be- 
gan Modeste, gently stroking her friend ^s hand. “ I was 
in despair at missing you the day we called. You see, we 
should be more friends than ever now — now — that you too 
2iiQ fiance, dear Aveline.^^ 

Yes,^^ Aveline replied, smiling faintly, “ and we must 
make the most of our time, Modeste, for your marriage 
will be coming so soon. Oh, Modeste, she exclaimed, 
with a complete and sudden change of tone, “ don^t you 
hate the thought of it?^^ 

Mile, de Villers opened wide her large dark eyes and 
stared at Aveline in consternation, almost approaching 
horror. She thought that her friend must be going out of 
her naind. 

“ Aveline she exclaimed. 

“ VVell,^^ said Miss Verney, feverishly, '‘why do you 
stare at me like that, Modeste? They say — I have often 
heard people say — that girls do hate the idea when it comes 
near."^ 

" Every girl must be sorry to leave her home and her 
old life, just as one is sorry when the spring goes, even 
though one knows the summer is coming,^ ^ said Modeste. 
" But that is very different from hating the thought of 
one^s new life, surely? Oh, no, if I felt so, I would not 
marry. 

Aveline got up from her seat and walked impatiently to 
the window. She stood there for a moment gazing out 
vacantly, then she turned and came slowly back to Mo- 
deste. 

"YouTe as bad as Leo,^^ she said, with a quivering 
smile which was next-door neighbor to tears. “I had 
thought — I had hoped — I didn’t expect you to think about 
falling in love and all that kind of thing — 

Modeste’s face flushed. 


104 


MARRYING AKD GIVING IN MARRIAGli:. 


You don’t, I hope, think I would marry if I hated the 
thought of it, as you say. I don’t understand you, Ave- 
line. Why did you accept this — Monsieur Ayrton, if you 
hate him?” 

Aveline sat down and leaned her head back wearily. 

I don’t hate him,” she said; “ that’s what you won’t 
understand. If I hated him I would not marry him. I 
dare say — I suppose — ^it will all turn out right enough.” 

“ But why marry him if there is any doubt about it?” 
persisted Mile, de Villers. 

Modeste,” said Aveline, “ I think you might under-’ 
stand without forcing me to say it. I think it is my duty 
to marry Mr. Ayrton. At one time I thought it impossi- 
ble, but now — no, I don’t hate him,” with, again, a wintery 
smile. ‘ ‘ He has behaved well and disinterestedly to me. 
He has been straightforward and in earnest from the first;” 
and here the girl’s pale face grew red, “ and — I don’t ex- 
pect much from life for myself. Surely, Modeste, it must 
be right to think of others? To see one wrinkle the less 
on papa’s face, to know that I can make things easier for 
Chris and Arthur and for Leo; to know that dear Leo will 
be free to marry happily, with my help, perhaps — ah! 
think of the joy and delight of that, Modeste. I can not 
be doing wrong in thinking of others more than of myself.” 

Modeste ’s face expressed complete bewilderment. She 
took refuge for the moment in a question. 

‘‘ And your mother?” she said. “ You do not mention 
her, Aveline. Is it to please her too? Can you not speak 
openly to her and ask her advice?” 

Aveline’s pleading face grew hard. 

“Ho,” she said; “mamma is the last person in the 
world I could speak openly to about myself. Pleased? 
Yes, it is to be hoped she is pleased. Ah! but how little 
she understands!” and the hard look intensified. Then 
with a sudden effort she seemed to rouse herself. “ You 
do not answer me, Modeste,” she said. “ Tell me, it can 


MARETING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 105 

not be wrong to forget one^s self for others. Your religion 
teaches this more than any, surely?^^ 

Modeste^s lips opened as if to speak, then closed again. 

“ I don’t know what to say, nor how to answer you,” 
she said at last. ‘‘ You put things in a way that puzzles 
me altogether. There must be wrong and right about it 
somewhere, if one could find it out. ” 

The words struck Aveline. 

“ I suppose it is always wrong to do wrong,” she said. 
“ It would be wrong to marry a bad man because he was 
rich and your family wished it. But Mr. Ayrton isn’t a 
bad man; he’s only — I don’t know how to say it — rough; 
perhaps even a little coarse.” 

Modeste gave a slight shiver. 

“ Oh, Aveline!” she said. 

“ He may improve,” Miss Verney went on, calmly. 
“ I am very fond of his father and mother, Modeste.” 

“Yes?” said Mile, de V filers, more cordially than she 
had yet spoken. “ I am glad of that.” 

“ Then you will give me a little comfort, won’t you?” 
said Aveline. “ I have been looking forward to getting it 
from you. You are almost like a married woman now, 
you see, and that makes you seem older. Tell me, you 
don’t tliink me wrong, dear Modeste.” 

“ If — if you don’t care for any one else more than for 
Monsieur Ayrton, I suppose — ” Modeste began, hesita- 
tiugly. 

But Aveline interrupted her. 

“ That even won’t always hold water,” she said, light- 
ly. “ You wouldn’t tell a child who was crying for the 
moon that he must go on crying for it. You would rather 
advise him to play with his humming-top and forget all 
about the moon.” 

Modesto’s sensible little face puckered up with per- 
plexity. 

“ You bewilder me, Aveline,” she said. 


“ I have 


106 MARKYIl^G AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

never thought of things like that — they don^t come in our 
way.^’ 

“ So much the happier for you/^ interposed Miss Ver- 
ney. 

‘‘ I wish you could talk to lonriQ maman,^^ cried 
Modeste. 

‘‘ I couldn^t,^^ Aveline replied, and it would be no use 
now. The die is cast. But now, Modeste, she went on, 
in a different tone, “ let us talk of other things. WonT 
you tell me about your trousseau a little?^^ 

Modeste was nothing loath to do so, and in the interest 
of the topic her anxiety about her friend fell a little into 
the background. 

But it revived again that evening when, alone with her 
mother and grandmother, the latter made some little in- 
quiry about Aveline. 

“You found her in good spirits — ^your young friend — of 
course, as all is now arranged?'^ said the old lady. 

Modeste hesitated. 

Bonne maman,^^ said, with a little sigh, “after 
all, though I love Aveline, I am not sure that I under- 
stand English girls. I am afraid about Aveline, loonne 
maman. ^ * 

“ Tell me, my child, said the old lady, gently. And 
Modeste tried to tell. 

The two elder ladies glanced at each other. 

“ Ah said Mme. de Villers, under her breath. She 
was too kind-hearted not to feel sorry for her daughter's 
friend yet with this was mingled a curious sensation of 
triumph over her mother^s Ariylomaine, “ How these 
English do mismanage their affairs she half whispered. 

Mme. de Boncoeur looked very grave. 

“ I)onT make yourself unhappy about it, my child,^^ she 
said, gently stroking her granddaughter’s hand. 

“ But, bonne maman,” whispered Modeste, the tears 
creeping into her eyeS;, “ she allows he is rough and even a 


MARUTIKG AKD GIVIKG IK MARRIAGE. 107 

little coarse. Suppose lie were to turn out really a brute 
— to be cruel to her — to ill-use her?^^ 

“ Calm yourself, Modeste. Her parents will have seen 
to that; her father is not the man to allow her to run such 
a risk — nor her mother. Christina is worldly, but she 
would not absolutely immolate her child. 

“ I could not take it upon myself to say,/^ replied Mme. 
de Villers, to whom this question seemed to be addressed. 

The old lady groaned. 

“ Alice,^^ she exclaimed, ‘‘ you horrify me.^^ 

Mme. de Villers raised her eyebrows. 

“ Dear mamma, she said, mildly, “ don’t put it upon 
me. I only repeat, like Modeste, that I don’t understand 
these English folk and their ways.” 

Mme. de Boncoeur looked so distressed that her grand- 
daughter, reversing the position of a few moments before, 
tried to console her. 

“ Bonne maman/* she said, softly, ‘‘ Aveline herself 
said if he were a had man she would never marry him. If 
it really should be so, let us hope she will find it out in 
time. She says he is rough and coarse — and indeed we 
have seen it for ourselves. That sort of man is probably 
not clever — he may let it be seen if he is really a — a — ” 

A brute,” suggested Mme. de Boncoeur, laughing, her 
elastic spirits reasserting themselves. ‘‘ Bravo, my little 
Modeste; I did not think you were already so wise. Let 
us hope, if it be so, that your predictions may come true. 
He drinks, probably — that is not a defect too easy to 
hide.” 

‘‘ Mamma!” said Mme. de Villers, with a glance in her 
daughter’s direction. But the old lady gave a slight gest- 
ure of indifference. Modeste was not a child now, she was 
all but a married woman, she must hear such things 
spoken of now and then. But the girl herself was not so 
unimpressionable. 

“ How dreadful!” she exclaimed, with dilated e3^es. 


108 MAKRTING»AND GIVING IN MAHKIAGE. 

“ Oh, lonne maman, supposing he is as bad as that, and 
that she does not find it out! Oh, poor Aveline!” 

‘‘ Let us hope for the best,^^ said Mme. de Villers, 
placidly. “ I have been told that among English people 
a broken engagement is not thought so grave an affair; so 
much the better in this case, perhaps. 

And with this she dismissed from her mind all anxiety 
on the subject of her daughter’s friend. But not so her 
old mother and Modeste. 

"When Aveline got home that afternoon and went into 
her own room she found Leo waiting for her. The sisters 
had of late been much less together than formerly. Ave- 
line’s new position had altered many things — among 
others, from it had resulted the first coldness that had ever 
existed between herself and her darling Leo. 

“ And to think,’'' thought the elder sister to herseK, 
sharply conscious of the irony of fate, that it is greatly 
for her sake that I am doing it!” 

To-day Leo struck her as looking brighter and more 
“like herself,” as the saying is, and immediately the 
elder sister’s heart grew lighter. 

“ What have you been about, Leo?” she said, cheerfuL 
ly. “ You look quite excited about something or other.” 

“ Oh, yes, Ave. Fve been waiting to catch you before 
you dress for dinner. Look what has come for me from 
Spain. Isn’t it pretty? — just what I wanted, and with 
such a delicious scent. Isn’t it good of him not to have 
forgotten?” 

She held out as she spoke a rosary carved in sweet- 
scented wood, such as one sees in all Spanish and southern 
towns. It was of no great value nor rarity, but it jileased 
Leo thoroughly. 

Aveline gazed at it but half comprehending. 

“ From Spain?” she repeated. 

“ Yes, of course,” said Leo, impatiently. “ Don’t you 
remember— oh, perhaps, you didn’t hear— that Mr. Here- 


MARKYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


109 


ward promised to send me a Spanisli rosary as soon as he 
got there? It was one day when we were looking at those 
shabby little ones outside one of the churches,” Leo went 
on, with a tone of supreme contempt for the formerly 
coveted treasures, “ and I hadn’t money enough to buy 
one. It is from him, I know, for he put one of his cards 
in with his address. I must write to thank him, mustn’t 
I, Av6?” 

“ I suppose so. Yes, of course. You’d better ask 
mamma. Have you shown it to her?” asked Aveline. 

Yes, but she scarcely noticed it. She just said, ‘ Oh 
yes, very nice. ’ And when I said, ‘ May I write to thank 
him?’ she said, ‘ Yes, if you like.’ She was busy looking 
at a lot of lace with Lady Ayrton. But I thought I’d ask 
yoio about writing,” and Leo fixed her very observant orbs 
full on her sister’s face. It grew faintly pinker under the 
scrutiny. 

‘‘Why should I object to your writing?” she said, 
coldly. 

“ I didn’t sujipose you would. I thought j^ou would tell 
me, perhaps, what to say. Shall I send any message from 
you?” 

“ My kind regards, if you like. You know what to say 
as well as I do; but you can show me the letter when it is 
ready, and I will see if it’s all right. I must dress now, or 
I shall be late for dinner. ” 

“ Mayn’t I stay with you while 'you dress, Ave?” asked 
Leo. Of late she had rather avoided this time together. 

“ If you like, dear,” said Aveline; but her voice sounded 
tired. 

“ What are you going to put on? Your blue?” said 
Leo, in some surprise. “ Oh, yes, I remember. Mamma 
said they were coming after dinner. Well, I sha’n’t have, 
to come in, anyhow. ” 

“ Leo,” said Aveline, suddenly facing round upon her 
sister, “ I wish you would not speak that way. You are 


110 MA^REYINCt and giving in marriage. 

making things far harder for me than they need be, and I 
don^t deserve it of you. You don^t know — you can^t un- 
derstand — she went on, with a catch almost like a sob in 
her voice, but she choked it down. ‘‘ Leo, do come into 
the drawing-room this evening — ^you know mamma is 
pleased now for you to come whenever there is any one — 
and try to be nice to Lady Ayrton, and — and to her son. 

Leo’s face remained somewhat hard and unbending. 

“ I don’t mind Lady Ayrton,” she said. She’s kind 
and good enough, except — well, she couldn’t very well be 
anything else to us — to you, Aveline. Just think what 
she’s getting. But about Mr. Ayrton. I detest him, Ave. 
I detest him more and more every time I see him. I 
don’t want to make things easier for you — the harder they 
are the better, if only it would make you give up this horri- 
ble marriage.” 

‘‘ Leo,” exclaimed Aveline, almost in amazement — the 
child had never before spoken out her mind quite so plain- 
ly — Leo, I have given my word.” 

‘‘ Does that mean that you would give it up if you 
could?” said Leo, her eyes gleaming. 

“No,” said her sister, calmly. “Nothing is altered. 
I have Just the same reasons for agreeing to marry Mr. 
Ayrton that I had when I first accepted him.” 

Leo’s face fell again. 

“ You’ve been with Modeste and her grandmother to- 
day,” she began again. “ What did they say? What do 
they think about it?” 

“ What do you mean, Leo?” said Aveline, impatiently. 
“ You don’t suppose I go running about asking every- 
body’s opinion about what I am going to do?” 

There was evasion in her reply, and evasion was what 
Aveline seldom condescended to. She felt ashamed of it, 
even while she thought it justified. She was ashamed, 
too, that Leonora should perceive it. 

“ I did not say ‘ everybody,’ ” replied the girl, quietly. 


MAERYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. Ill 

“ Modeste is your best friend here. You might have said 
things to her that you^ouldn^t say to ‘ everybody/ cer- 
tainly.^^ 

“ Well, then,'^ said Aveline, ‘‘ I can^t tell you what she 
said, or what I said to her.^^ 

A shadow of satisfaction stole over Leo^s face. 

‘‘ They donT like it, and they have told her so/’ she 
said to herself, “ and I dare say that^s what^s made her so 
cross. ” 

She turned to leave the room without speaking. 

“ Leo/’ Aveline called after her, “ will you come into 
the drawing-room this evening?^ ^ 

‘‘ITl see,^^ Leo replied. “I want to get my letter 
written first, and I shall take some time about it. I want 
to do it very nicely, of course.” 

And with this parting thrust she departed 

Aveline sat for a moment or two gazing before her. 

“ Modeste, and now Leo,^^ she said. “ There seems no 
rest for the soles of my feet anywhere. I donT pity peo- 
ple who are martyrs if all their friends stay beside them 
supporting and praising them for what they are do- 
ing. She gave a bitter little laugh. “ It^’s too bad to 
have done it, to have made up my mind it was right, and 
not to get any credit for it — except indeed from mamma, 
and her approval I don^t want. She understands my real 
motives less than any one. Lady Ayrton, of course, is 
ready to praise me to any extent if I would let her, poor 
dear,^^ and a softened look stole over Aveline ^s face. 

understand her motives, and I can’t blame her. 
But, altogther, this going over it all and questioning me, 
as Modeste and Leo do, is almost more than I can bear. I 
wish it could all be over sooner. I wish I could be mar- 
ried next week.” And, “I wonder” — she allowed the 
thought to rest for a moment in her mind — “ I wonder if 
he knows I am going to be married. Not that he would 
care. If he gave a thought to it he would probably dc- 


112 


MARKYIKa AND GIVING IN MAREIAGE. 


spise me for it and credit me with the lowest motives. But 
he could not despise me much more than he has done 
already, according to what mamma says.^^ 

And all softness left Aveline’s face at this reflection. 


CHAPTER IX. 

‘ Aveline was glad when dinner was over, for she and 
her father and mother were dining alone, and she felt less 
able than heretofore to meet the shrewd, kindly glances 
Mr. Verney from time to time directed toward her from 
under his shaggy eyebrows, or, still worse, to reply with 
any sort of cordiality to her mother^s rhapsodies about the 
lace in which she and Lady Ayrton had been investing. 

“ My purchases were very small, of course, Lady 
Christina ran on, “ though I confess I never did feel so 
tempted to be extravagant in my life. It isn^t every day 
one has a daughter going to be married. She glanced 
brightly at her two companions in turn, but on neither 
husband’s nor daughter’s face was any answering smile to 
be detected. She was getting used to this kind of thing, 
however, and dismissed all annoyance with a mental shrug 
of the shoulders. “ Some day, perhaps, when Aveline has 
daughters of her own to marry, she will do me justice,” 
she said to herself. And, with this consolatory reflection, 
she babbled on again — if a Lady Christina* can ever be said 
to babble — in her softest tones about the Brussels and the 
Mechlin and all the rest of it. 

“ There were some flounces which positively made my 
mouth Water; they would be so lovely, arranged in the 
new way, for your wedding-dress, Ave ” — her daugliter 
had never been anytliing less formal than Aveline till the 
new state of things. “ But your Aunt Barbara has always 
promised you her old lace for that, and of course . there is 
something eminently respectable in old lace. And I can 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


113 


tell you — are yoii- listening, Aveline? — whether you have 
your wedding-dress trimmed with them or not, I don^’t 
suppose it will matter to you in the end that I could not 
afford the flounces for you. For Sophia bought them, 
and looked very mysterious over it, and she chose those I 
thought the prettiest. 

Lady Christina nodded her head with great satisfaction. 
Aveline smiled faintly; something just then made her feel 
sorry for her mother. 

“ Lady Ayrton is exceedingly kind; very, very kind,^^ 
said the girl. 

Mr. Verney glanced up. 

Yes,^^ he said, “ she is both kind and generous. It is 
not often that very rich people are so generous. ” 

Lady Christina beamed with satisfaction, but Aveline 
said nothing. She had detected a certain under-tone in her 
father's voice. 

In the drawing-room, a few minutes later, Leonora, in 
correct white muslin, and with neatly arranged hair, made 
her appearance. Aveline glanced at her with approval. 

“ She has done it to please me, the dear,^^ she reflected, 
and she welcomed Leo with a bright smile, which brought 
the child across the room. 

“ Ay 6/^ she whispered, ‘‘ can you look at my letter be- 
fore they come? I have it here all ready, and mamma is 
busy just now. Just come into the little drawing-room a 
moment. 

Aveline followed her sister. The letter was irreproacha- 
ble. She read it carefully, and was just putting it back 
into the envelope when sounds in the next room announced 
the guests^ arrival. 

“ Quick, Avel” said Leo. But Aveline, always deliber- 
ate in her movements, saw no reason to hurry. A mo- 
ment later she regretted she had not done so. 

Wilfred Ayrton, his face adorned with a foolish smile 
and even redder than usual, with a something indescriba- 


114 MAKRYING AKD GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

ble about bis whole bearing and appearance, which the two 
girls felt rather than saw, came slouching unsteadily into 
the room. 

“ What^re you after, in here by yourselves, ycoing wom- 
en he began. “Up to mischief, no doubt. Writing 
billy-doos, eh? Can^t stand that sort of thing, you 
know. 

His voice was not exactly thick, or perhaps, as it was at 
no time clear, not any startling difference was perceptible, 
but the tone and the words were sufficient. Aveline 
looked up haughtily. 

“ Mr. Ayrton she exclaimed. 

He was too stupid to understand her manner at once. 
He burst into a coarse laugh, and putting out his hand 
caught hold of the letter in Aveline^s fingers. In her 
amazement she made no effort to retain it, nor did she 
recover her presence of mind till he had drawn it from the 
envelope and was holding it up to read. And even then 
all the girl did was to sink back on her chair with a look 
of almost wild appeal to her younger sister. 

“Leo,'’ she whispered, “I can't struggle with him. 
AVhat can we do?" 

Mr. Ayrton meanwhile had made himself master of the 
first sentence. 

“ ‘ Dear Mr. Hev — Hew — ' " he stammered, “ ‘ dear 
Mr. Hereward.^ Oh, indeed, that's it, is it? You're 
writin' to that fellow, are you? I say, Aveline, I'm not 
goin' to stand that kind of thing, you know. I must see 
what it's all about, any way. ‘ I — I thank you very much 
indeed for your lovely present.' Has the fellow been send- 
ing you presents?" said Mr. Ayrton, frowning upon Ave- 
line, his face so distorted and inflamed with temper as to 
seem positively repulsive, his voice clearer for the moment 
with the force of his excitement. “ Answer me at once, 
or I — I — " and he stammered and spluttered in the vajin 


MARRYIKG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 115 

endeavor to find his words. Aveline and Leonora grew 
pale with fear. 

“ Eun, Leo, run for papa/^ whispered the elder girl, 
half wildly, and Leonora fiew. But at the door between 
the two rooms she knocked against Lady Ayrton, who, 
after a word of greeting to her hostess, had thought it ad- 
visable to follow her son, and that not without considerable 
trepidation and misgiving. 

“ Not so fast, my dear — not quite so fast, please,^^ said 
the poor lady, with nervous good-nature; “ why, where 
are you off to, Leo? Is anything the matter ?^^ as she 
caught sight of Leonora^s face. 

“ It^s Mr. Ayrton. He^s been so rude to Ave — and he 
is so queer. I think he^s going out of his mind. I^m go- 
ing to fetch papa,^ ^ Leo replied, in her agitation quite for- 
getting to whom she was speaking. 

Lady Ayrton caught her by the arm. 

“ My child, I beg you to do nothing of the kind. I will 
speak to Wilfred. He is hot-tempered, you know. I un- 
derstand him. Eun in to your mother, I will send Ave- 
line to you. But don’t say anything to your father, I be- 
seech you. Men, you know, are different. It might lead 
to a quarrel if Wilfred has lost his temper. Your father 
is still in the dining-room. Leo, dear, I entreat you!” 

Mystified, but impressed, Leo gave in. 

Lady Ayrton hurried up to the corner where Aveline, 
still pale and trembling, sat watching her fiance as he 
glared at the paper. 

‘‘ Wilfred,” said his mother, in a low voice, but more 
sternly than Aveline could have believed her capable of 
speaking, “ what is all this?” 

Mr. Ayrton started, and the look on his face as he 
turned to his mother was one of fear. 

“ That’s — that’s just exac’ly what I’d like to know,” 
he said. A letter to that— that fellow— I can’t stand 
that sort o’ thing, you know.” 


IIG MARRYIKG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

“ Gi^e me the letter. Lady Ayrton, please, said Ave- 
line. “It is poor little Leo’s/^ she added, when she at 
last got it into her hand. “ But — he — he has been so — he 
frightened us so.^^ 

“ It will be all right, my love — ^yoii will see,^^ said the 
poor mother, forcing herself to speak cheerfully. “ Wil- 
fred takes up things wrongly, and he is hasty, she added, 
in a lower voice. “ Leave him to me. I wished him not 
to come to-night. He — he was put out before we left 
home. Just leave him to me, dear. Will you go into the 
other room?^^ 

“ No, said Aveline, “ I will go to my own room. Say 
good-night to mamma for me — say anything you like;^^ 
and as lier future mother-in-law followed her to the door 
with broken words of “ explaining it to-morrow — 

“ Wilfred will be so distressed,^ ^ she turned and faced her 
for one instant. “ Lady Ayrton, she said, “ tell me the 
truth. Has he been drinking?^’ 

There was no need for an answer, but the poor woman 
caught the girl’s two hands in her own. “ Aveline,” she 
entreated, “ don’t be too hard on him. It is so long since 
I have seen him so. I was quite happy. And your influ- 
ence? Many young men — ” she went on, disjointedly. 
“ Oh, don’t say or do anything hurriedly! AVait a little.” 

“ I am going to my own room. I am not going to do 
anything to-night,’ ’ said Aveline. She was quivering with 
eagerness to get away. 

“ Thank you — God bless you!” exclaimed Lady Ayrton, 
snatching at the half-promise of deliberation that the 
words contained. 

And Aveline rushed to her own room, and there throw- 
ing herself into a chair, burst into tears. 

“ Why must things be so much harder for me than for 
others? I had made up my mind to it, and I thought it 
was right,” she sobbed. 

Mr. Ayrton and his mother left almost immediately. 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


117 


5s. 


Between them the two women managed to get him away 
without his being seen by Mr. Verney. And Leonora was 
sent to bed. She sat up for some time, however — she re- 
wrote her crushed letter to Mr. Hereward, and closed and 
directed it, ready to be posted the next morning. It was 
exactly the same as its predecessor, but with the addition of 
a postscript marked “ private, which ran thus: “ I don^t 
know if you have heard that Ave is going to be married to 
Mr. Ayrton. At least Ihn afraid she is, and I hate him.^^ 

Adeline woke the next morning with the strange feeling, 
known to us all, that something of importance, which for 
the moment she could not clearly recollect, had happened. 
As she gradually gathered together her ideas and realized 
the events of the day before, her perplexity changed its 
direction, but only to increase in intensity. 

‘‘ What can I do? What shall I do? Will mamma not 
help me in some way? Should I go to papa or to her? I 
wonder what Modesto and her grandmother would tell me 
to do, were the ideas that chased each other round her 
brain as she dressed. She felt nervous and almost dazed 
as she sat waiting for her mother at the breakfast table. 

What will she say? How will she bear the disappoint- 
ment? But at worst she can^t blame me,^^ thought the 
girl, as she turned tremulously at the sound of the door 
opening. 

“ Good-morning, my dear. Is your headache better? 
Lady Ayrton told me you thought it best to go to bed. 
Mr. Ayrton had a headache too, or else he was cross at 
your disappearance. They did not stay long. I think it 
must be something in the weather, for I feel rather done 
up myself. Dear me, how late it is! And we must be at 
Sophia ^s by eleven; we arranged to go to her dressmaker ^s 
this morning. I want to know lier prices before ordering 
any of your dresses. 

Lady Christina ran on so fast that, till she fairly stopped 
to take breath, Aveline could not have got in a word. 


118 MARRYINia AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

But her face had all this time been growing more and 
more amazed-looking, her blue eyes opening more and 
more widely with an expression almost of horror. And 
when it was possible for her to speak, she ejaculated but 
the one word, 

“Mamma!’" 

Lady Christina glanced at her for an instant with a sort 
of contempt, not, however, altogether unmingled with un- 
easiness. 

“ What are you staring at me like that for, Aveliner” 
she exclaimed, irritably. “ Eeally, my dear, there are 
times when you make yourself look as if you had not all 
your senses.” 

Aveline took no notice of the taunt. Her energies were 
too completely concentrated in the one direction. 

“ Mamma,” she said again, this time in a low, almost 
imploring tone, “ can it be that you do not know? You 
must have seen — his mother knew it — that — that Mr. Ayr- 
ton was drunk last night. Mamma, oh, mamma, it must 
alter everything. ” 

Lady Christina glanced at her daughter again; this time 
the contempt was uppermost. 

“ Really, Aveline, foolish as I know you to be, I did not 
think quite so poorly of you as you force me to do. And 
so unladylike in your expressions. Drunk! — what a word 
to apply to a gentleman, and to the gentleman you are go- 
ing to marry!” 

“ It is more ungentlemanlike to be it, than it is unlady- 
like of me to say it,” returned Aveline. “ And you are 
mistaken, mamma, I am not going to marry him. ” 

“ You are,^^ retorted her mother, losing her temper. 
“ I shall not allow my daughter to jilt any man.” 

Aveline rose from her .chair. 

“ I will go to papa,” she said, ‘ ’ and see what he says,” 
and she turned toward the door. 

Lady Christina’s tone changed at once. 


MARRYIlfG AND GIVING IN MAKRIAGE. 119 

Aveline, I 'beseech you, do nothing of the kind. Your 
father is not well this morning. He has had worrying 
letters — more expense for Chris, and your Uncle Bart 
can^t help him — and — and other things. This coming to 
Paris has cost more than we expected, and the London 
house not letting. Aveline, donT be exaggerated. You 
have taken up Mr. Ayrton mistakenly. He had a head- 
ache, and Sir Francis had been very sharp with him, and 
he may have taken a little more than is strictly advisable. 
I don^t think he has a very strong head; and then he was 
rather irritable, I suppose, and something you said put him 
out, Sophia told me — not that she blamed you in the least. 
That was it, was it not?^^ 

“ Partly, I suppose,^ ^ Aveline replied, vaguely, thank- 
ful that her mother knew nothing about the letter to Mr. 
Here ward. 

“ Well, you see how it looks when it is taken reasonably. 
We will talk about it afterward; but, I entreat you, Ave- 
line, say nothing as yet to your father. I donT, no, I 
donH know what we should do if this marriage were to fall 
through and Lady Christina clasped her hands together. 

Aveline was not proof againt this new species of attack. 
Her only safety lay in flight. 

“ I will go before papa comes in,^^ she said. ‘‘If he 
saw me I could not conceal that something was the mat- 
ter. I donT want any more breakfast. I have drunk my 
coffee.^" 

“ I will not take you to Sophia^s this morning,^ ^ said her 
mother. “ I will go myself, and — and — just see a little. 
Go out with Leo, my dear; your nerves have been upset, 
and I will see you when I come in. 

And Aveline, ashamed of her weakness, dissatisfied and 
miserable, yet knowing that she had no strength to do 
otherwise, once her mother appealed to her as she had 
done, left the room. 

Things turned out easier for her in the first place than 


120 MARRYIN-Q AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

she could have hoped. There was a respite, for Lady 
Christina came back from the Ayrtons’ hotel with the news 
of their leaving Paris for a few days. Sir Francis had a 
longing for country air, and they were going off to Com- 
2)icgne at once. Aveline could not repress a heartfelt 
ejaculation of thankfulness, which Lady Christina diplo- 
matically affected not to hear, and her whole tone and 
manner remained softened and sympathizing. 

“ Your nerves have been upset of late, my dear child/’ 
she said, gently. I can quite understand it; you have 
had so much to think of. A few days quietly by ourselves 
will do both you and me good.” 

‘‘ Lady Ayrton has been making mamma promise to be 
very kind and patient with me. I see it all,” thought 
Aveline. “ She knows me so well. I wish mamma had 
kept to the way she spoke this morning. Then I could 
have resisted her. But poor papa, and all the troubles! 
And after all, if I give this up, what else have I to look 
forward to? If we were really poor people — quite poor — 
and I could work for them, how much happier it would 
be!” 

And then there rose before her the recollection of Mr. 
Ayrton’s red, inflamed-looking face, of his coarse tones and 
repulsive presence, of the evening before. 

“ No,” shuddered Aveline, ‘‘ I can’t marry him. What 
a fool he is! Why did he not keeji on the mask, if it was 
a mask, a little longer? Once married to him, my duty 
would be clear. That is what is torturing me — the not 
knowing what to do. If it is the case, as his mother said, 
that last night was accidental? For it is true that Sir 
Francis is very hard upon him. And, whatever his faults 
and failings are, he has been straightforward and disinter- 
ested to me. Can he have heard any gossip about Mr. 
Hereward? If so, I don’t wonder that he was angry at 
thinking I was writing to him.” 

And as • the days went on this new idea gathered fresh 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 121 

force. It was strengthened, almost unconsciously to Ave- 
line, by little allusions on her mother^s part to hints con- 
tained in Lady Ayrton ^s letters of AVilf red’s distress of 
mind. 

“ Poor fellow,” Lady Christina would murmur; “ he 
has no tact, no savoire faire, as his mother says. He is 
too bunglingly honest, and gets blamed where a clever man 
— a man more alive to his own interests, a man of the 
world, in short — would get off scot-free.” 

‘‘ I don’t see—” began Aveline, and then she hesitated. 

AVhat, my love?” said her mother, encouragingly. 

“ A man need not be a selfish man of the world to be 
gentle and courteous, and to — to know when he has had as 
much wine as is good for him,” said Aveline, her cheeks 
flaming. 

“ Ah,” said Lady Christina, slowly shaking her head, 
“ you are so inexperienced, Aveline. AVhat do you know 
of those charming, to all appearance chivalrous men, be- 
hind the scenes? They will steal a girl’s heart with their 
gentle, courteous ways, and then make fun of her. Ah, 
no, my love, all is not gold that glitters. ” 

And, though Aveline would have died rather than let 
her mother know it, the shaft went home. 

Mile, de Villers’s marriage was to be in ten days. The 
usual evening party for the signing of the contract took 
place the day before the return of the Ayrtons from Com- 
piegne, and for this Aveline was gra'teful. Lady Ayrton 
and her son would certainly have been invited, and since 
her last conversation with Modeste, above all with the con- 
sciousness of her own increased misgivings, she shrunk with 
the greatest reluctance from appearing with fiance be- 
fore her quick-eyed and quick-witted friends. She exerted 
herself to seem particularly bright and lively, so that Lady 
Christina herself was deceived, and laid her head on her 
pillow the night of the soiree de fiangailles with the happy 
conviction that Aveline had come back to her senses. 


122 MARRYIJTG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

“ The going to Compiegne was an excellent move on 
Sophia's part," she said to herself; “ and this marriage 
coming on will make Aveline realize what it would be to 
give up all thoughts of her own." 

The next day brought Lady Ayrton. With great tact 
she asked at once for Miss Verney; Lady Christina, by a 
happy coincidence, was on the point of going out,jind 
begged Aveline to excuse her to her friend. Aveline hesi- 
tated. 

“I don't want to see her alone, mamma," she began; 
hut she was quickly interrupted. 

“ My dear, it is exactly what I do wish. I will not in- 
terfere in any way, or attempt to influence you. You 
must judge for yourself, Aveline. It is a thing in which 
no one can decide for you." 

And with these words the girl felt that her fate was 
again taken out of her hands. 

“ I can't decide for myself when it is to make other peo- 
23le unhappy — and mamma knows it," thought Aveline, 
as she opened the drawing-room door. 

And had she been far more resolute than was possible 
for her to be, her decision would have been shaken by the 
sight of Lady Ayrton's appealing face. She looked white 
and care-worn. Truth to tell, the sojourn at Compiegne 
had not been a time of peace and sunshine for the poor 
woman. She had longed for, and yet dreaded, the return 
to Paris, when she must learn the result of Aveline 's 
“thinking things over." She felt, as regarded her son, 
like a gambler who has staked his all on a last throw. 

She was not of a nature to act with much diplomacy, had 
diplomacy been required. But such was not the case, and 
no tact or skill could have stood her in such good stead as 
did the display of her real and intense anxiety. As Ave- 
line entered the room Lady Ayrton rose from her seat and 
came toward her, both hands extended. 

“My dear," she began, “ I asked to see you alone. I 


MARRYIiq-G AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


123 


am so anxious — I have been so unhappy. And Wilfred, 
too — the words came less easily here — “ Wilfred has 
been so unhappy and so remorseful/^ and with this Lady 
Ayrton put her hands on the girFs shoulders and burst 
into tears. 

What could Aveline do, what could any girl in her place 
and of her nature have done, but soothe the poor woman 
with words which bore more significance than the speaker 
fully realized? It is always painful to see the tears of old 
or even elderly people; to Aveline, unaccustomed to much 
expression of emotion, it was peculiarly so. And, before 
she well knew what she was about, there was Lady Ayrton 
rapturously kissing and thanking her, assuring her that 
the lesson should be one by which her son should profit as 
long as he lived; that never should her sweet girl, her 
daughter- to-be, repent her generosity, her goodness! 

“And he may come to see you again, may he? con- 
cluded AVilfred’s mother; “ or will you come to us, as you 
used? Would you spend to-morrow with us? Sir Francis 
is longing to see you,^^ to which proposal Aveline agreed. 
A reconciliation scene in her mother^s presence, and with 
her mother^s remarks and felicitations, would, she felt, 
have been more than she could stand. 

She was not nervous at the idea of meeting Mr. Ayrton 
now; the worst was over, the die was cast, and there was 
nothing to do but walk on, not blindfold, but refusing to 
see. 

And the next day passed much as she had expected. 
Wilfred was sheepishly subdued, making clumsy efforts to 
show his regret and gratitude, which, out of a sort of 
almost grotesque pity, she received graciously enough for 
him to have recovered before the end of the afternoon his 
usual bearing of clownishly good-humored satisfaction. 

“And this, thought Aveline to herself, with an in- 
stinct stronger than the inexperience on which her mother 
laid so much weight," “ this is to be my life/^ 


124 MAERYING AKD GIVIKG IN -MARRIAGE. 

Sir Francis was as charming as to her he had always 
been. But she thought him looking very ill — much worse 
than when she had last seen him : and more than once she 
caught his eyes fixed upon her with an expression half mel- 
ancholy, half scrutinizing, which puzzled and yet touched 
her. It was like, and yet not like, the glances which, 
from time to time, her father darted at her from under his 
eyebrows. 

‘‘Is he sorry for me, or does he lopk down upon me?^^ 
she asked herself. And, indeed, at this juncture the ques- 
tion was one which Sir Francis Ayrton could not himself 
have answered. 


CHAPTER X. 

There was a large gathering of well-dressed people at 

the Church of St. Z the morning of the marriage of 

M. Maurice de Bois-Hubert and Mile. Modeste de Villers, 
a much larger gathering than the Verneys in their experi- 
ence had expected. For Mme. de Boncoeur had impressed 
upon them that it was to be a very quiet affair. 

“ Times are changed, said the old lady, “ and not for 
the better, since the day twenty-three years ago, when I 
married my Alice. That was a brilliant spectacle. But 
in the j)resent state of our unhappy country, any great 
display, even on an occasion of undoubted rejoicing, would 
be in very questionable taste. 

Thus it came to pass that when Mr. Verney, his wife, 
and daughter entered the church, they found almost every 
corner occupied. The places reserved for the relations 
and near friends of the bride and bridegroom were inacces- 
sible; it was all Mr. Verney could do to find separate seats 
for Lady Christina and Aveline at some little distance 
from each other, and standing-room for himself in the 
shelter of a pillar. 

Aveline was not sorry to be, so to speak, alone, and free 


MAKRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


125 


from her mother^s whispered comments. The church was 
not a very large one^, but things had been well-arranged. 
Exquisite white flowers against a background of palms and 
rare shrubs tempered the gilding and color of the altar, 
too brilliant and ornate for northern eyes. 

“ I have never seen a French church look so solemn and 
yet beautiful/^ thought Aveline, and when the music, the 
very best of its kind, was added to the whole, the girl felt 
almost too deeply impressed. The tears would come to her 
eyes when they descried the figure of Modeste, familiar and 
yet strange in its new dignity of bridal attire, kneeling be- 
side the man she had chosen for her husband, and not a 
word of the service was lost upon the English maiden. 

“ How is it?^^ she asked herself, “ I have been at several 
marriages, but I never felt like this before. Is the French 
service more impressive than ours, or is it that I have never 
before thought so much about it? How glad I am to know 
that Modeste really loves him, and to feel, as sure as one 
can feel, that she is going to be happy 

But with these reflections there returned to her with 
irrepressible force the misgivings, the cruel misgivings, 
she had so tried to stifle. 

“ How should I feel if I were to-day kneeling there in 
Modeste 's place, with him, Wilfred Ayrton, beside me? 
How shall I feel when the day comes for it, as come it 
must?^^ 

She shut her eyes for an instant — a feeling of dizziness 
came over her. The bridal party by this time had left the 
altar and withdrawn to the sacristy, there to await their 
friends and their congratulations. People began to talk 
together, for the most part in subdued tones, but some 
ladies in Miss Yerney’s immediate neighborhood were less 
cautious. 

‘‘ So there^s another happy pair done for,^^ were the first 
words Aveline overheard, in the sharp nasal tones of a not 


126 


MARRYIKG AOT GIVIKG IK MARRIAGE. 


first-class American. Let^s hope they^re going to have 
a better time than most French couples, by all accounts. 

“ Well, now, Stella, I donH agree with you there. 
YouVe got your notions out of novels. For my part I be- 
lieve there^s good and bad of all kinds. I^d take a French- 
man to-morrow, if — 

“ If he’d got a title — that’s the plain English of it with 
you,” laughed the first speaker. “ But don’t you be in a 
hurry, Cilly. Look about you awhile. And, by the bye, 
what’s become of Will? He said he’d be sure to be here.” 

“ I’ve not seen him, and I’m not going to look for him. 
He’ll be tied on to his young lady and her people to-day. 
He’s on his good behavior since that flare-up he told us of, 
you know. ” 

“ All the same I’d be sorry to bet on that marriage ever 
coming off,” replied the first speaker. “ Will won’t find 
it so easy to keep on his good behavior for long; there’ll 
be another flare-up some day, when he gets just a little 
bit excited, you know, Cilly. It isn’t as if he cared about 
the girl.” 

‘‘But he cares about Garthdean — isn’t that the name of 
the place he’s to have when the marriage comes off? It’s 
real mean of the old people to entrap the poor fellow into 
a marriage by bribing him like that, and so I told him 
from the first, at Pan.” 

“ Well, he is not married yet,” resumed Miss Lucilla’s 
sister or cousin — veline never knew the relationship of 
the two speakers — “ and with your money, Cilly, I say it’ll 
be strange if you can’t get what you want for it, consider- 
ing you’ve come to Europe on purpose. But don’t you 
think we’d best go now? We’ll have a better view of them 
coming out if we station ourselves by the door. ” 

Then ensued a rustling and moving which told Miss 
Verney that her unwelcome neighbors had taken them- 
selves off. 

They had not seen her, of that she was certain; there 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 127 

Had been no intention in a single word of those she had 
overheard. Trembling from head to foot, too bewildered 
to think clearly, Aveline drew back in her corner as far as 
possible and tried to collect herself. Her one idea for 
some time was to remain hidden till she could succeed in 
doing so. She did not even look up when, by the whis- 
pered remarks about her, she became aware that the bridal 
cortege was passing down the aisle. 

‘‘ Modeste will not distinguish me among so many,^'’ she 
said to herself, and I must, I must think. Oh, I do so 
.hope they will not be there! I could not speak to him, 
and it would be almost harder to speak to his mother. I 
have thought her so sincere — I have believed he cared for 
me for myself. Fool that I have been!” 

Five minutes later she heard her mother ^s voice. 

‘‘We are going, Aveline. Are you asleep, my dear? 
Why, what is the matter? You look so white. The 
heat, I suppose? as Aveline murmured some vague ex- 
cuse. “ Thank goodness, there is nothing to cry about in 
Mod esters marriage,^ ^ with a rather sharp glance at her 
daughter's eyes. “ I can not imagine what has become of 
the Ayrtons. Sophia was quite determined to come. 
They will make their appearance at the Kue de Touraine, 
however, no doubt. 

But in this, to Aveline^s immense relief, Lady Christina 
did not prove a prophet. The truth was that Mr. Ayrton 
had declined to accompany his mother, and she thought it 
better to stay at home than to risk inconvenient questions 
and remarks. 

“ I had such a headache, she told her friend, when 
Christina drove round to inquire. 

“ Ah, yes, with the heat, I suppose. Aveline is not 
well to-day, either. She walked home with her father, 
and asked me to tell you how sorry she was not to have 
seen you and Wilfred. 

This message, needless to say, was an invention; Aveline 


128 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


hail never mentioned the Ayrtons’ name. Her jiallor 
and evident suffering had drawn down upon her much 
sympathy from her friends and some veiled indignation 
from her mother. 

“ So silly and sentimental of you to look as if you were 
going to faint because your friend is happily married/’ 
said Lady Christina, cuttingly, though in a low voice; 
while old Madame de Boncoeur kissed her with a tender- 
ness that nearly brought the tears to her eyes, and Modeste 
whispered, “ Dear Aveline, I can not bear to see you look- 
ing so ill. It is the only cloud in my sky to-day. ” 

Mr. Verney had his own ideas on the subject, but said 
nothing; and Aveline was grateful to be left alone, and 
thankful to find herself at last in her own room, free to 
decide on her course of action. 

“ If what I heard is true, I can not marry him. The 
one thing I believed in was his disinterestedness. There 
can be no mistake. Those women can not but have meant 
him. The name ‘ Will,’ and Garthdean, my future 
home, as Lady Ayrton always calls it! Still, I suppose it 
is fair to ask for an explanation — for the truth. But 
whom can I ask, and how can I bear my life with mamma 
when it is all given upr” 

There came a tap at the door. 

“ Come in,” said Aveline, starting up. But she need 
not have started; it was only Leo. 

Ave,” said she, “ papa sent me to you. He told me 
you had such a bad headache. ' What is it, dear Avc? 
You look so YGYJ ill.” 

For all answer Aveline put her arms round her young 
sister, and burst into tears. 

“ Leo, dear, I don’t know what to do,” she exclaimed. 
“ It seems as if I were fated never to know what I should 
do. I had fixed to marry Mr. Ayrton. I thought it my 
duty. Then I wanted to give it up after that evening, you 


MARHYIKG AND GIVING iN MARRIAGE. 120 

know; and I was persuaded into it again, and again I 
thought it right. And then to-day, at the church, when I 
saw Modeste and Monsieur de Bois-Hubert married, and I 
felt that they cared for each other, and that Modeste was 
not afraid of what she was doing, it all came over me quite 
differently again, and— Leo^s eyes were sparkling. 

“ And you felt you could not marry that man?^^ she in- 
terrupted. “ Oh, Ave! keep to that; it is the right feel- 
ing—" 

“ Stop!^^ said Aveline, “ you havenH heard half.^^ 

Then she went on to tell Leonora what she had heard, 
and the interpretation she could not but put upon it. 
‘‘ And what can I dor^^ she finished by saying, helplessly. 

Leo^s face was a study; her color went and came; her 
eyes by now were positively gleaming, 

‘‘ Aveline,’’ she said, “ you are older than I, and I sup- 
pose I’ve no right to say it, but do you know I am really 
ashamed of you? Here are you wondering what you 
should do, and thinking things are so hard for you, when 
you should be ready to jump with joy — 1 am, I know — 
that you’ve found i^ all out. I knew that man didn’t 
really care for you — he couldnH, And now you see that 
he has only wanted to marry you to please his father and 
mother, and to get them to give him that place and lots of 
money, and yet you say you don’t know what to do.” 

“ I must find out the exact truth,” said Aveline. “ I 
can not act upon gossip overheard by accident. And I 
don’t know whom to get the truth from. His mother ” — 
and Aveline gave a shiver — ‘‘ his mother would throw 
herself upon me and cry — and — oh, Leo, it would be horri- 
ble!” 

“ I can’t understand how you can be sorry for her or 
for his father. They were ready to sacrifice you. I dare 
say that man’s just horribly wicked. I dare say,” said 
Leo, impressively, “ he gets drunk every evening when we 
don’t see him.” 


130 MAKKYmG AND GIVING IN MAERIAGE. 

“ Perhaps/^ Aveline agreed. “ But, however bad he 

is, I am dreadfully sorry for his father and mother. 

There was a moment or two^s silence. 

“Will you speak to papa?” said Leo, abruptly. “ I 
can call him. He^s not gone out yet, and mamma has not 
come home. 

“ No,” said Aveline, “ I don^t want to mix papa up in 

it. He would be so fearfully angry about it all — with the 
Ayrtons, and — and with mamma. I want him to know of 
it, when it is done, as quite my own doing — not that I had 
found out anything. I will tell you, Leo, what I think 
will be best. I will speak to Sir Francis Ayrton. He is a 
gentleman; he can not deceive me when I put it to him 
plainly. And I have a right to know.'^ 

“ I should think so indeed,” said Leo. “ Well, then, 
write him a note — now, this minute — to ask him when you 
can see him alone. ITl take it when I go out with Elise. 
Write it now, Ave.” 

And, sternly determined, the young girl stood over her 
sister till the words were written. The letters were 
tremulous and the note was somewhat incoherently ex- 
pressed, but Leo cared little for that. 

“ Once she sees him and tells all, it must come to an 
end,” thought she. For in her heart she doubted if Mr. 
Ayrton^s father had taken much part in the scheme. 

“It is all his mother,” she thought to herself, “ and 
mamma, though 1 will never say so as long as I live. But 
when I am grown up, I shall not be as meek and giving-in 
as poor AvA” 

Sir Francis Ayrton was surprised and somewhat discom- 
posed by the receipt of Miss Verney’s note. 

“Some new misbehavior of AVilfred^s, I suppose,” he 
said to himself. “ She is getting frightened, perhaps. So 
much the better for her. I have never been able to un- 
derstand the girl. I think I have never felt sure of its 
going through. Thank Heaven, 1 had nothing to do with 


MAERYING AKD GIVING IK MARRIAGE. 131 

it! But that makes it all the harder lines that I should be 
dragged into it now. Why can^t the girl speak to Sophia? 
Why can^t she have it out with that precious son of mine 
himself? If a nice, pretty girl will engage herself to a 
cub, she should take the consequences. 

Sir Francises bark, however, was worse than his bite. 
The note which Aveline received from him the next morn- 
ing was couched in the kindest terms, naming an hour at 
which she’ could see him alone, delicately intimating rather 
than expressing his gratification at the trust she placed in 
him. 

But though he did not let it be seen, the invalid gentle- 
man was nearly as nervous as Aveline herself when, the 
next afternoon, she was ushered into his sitting-room. He 
was as usual on his sofa, and, as he had promised her, 
alone. 

“It is kind of you to let me come to see you. I — I 
wish I had not needed to ask it,^^ began Aveline, her lips 
quivering. 

“ My dear young lady,^^ replied the baronet, “ you have 
every conceivable right to ask me what you choose. Hot 
merely as a friend, but as — 

“ I know what you are going to say,^^ interrupted the 
girl. “ DonH say it, please. I shall never be more than 
a friend to you. You will understand when you hear what 
I have to say. 

“ Oh!^^ said Sir Francis, and the low exclamation 
sounded so like a groan of pain that Aveline glanced at 
him anxiously. But, though pale — very pale — he was 
smiling slightly, though his hand was pressed against his 
,side. “ There is nothing the matter,’^ he went on, 
hastily, detecting her frightened expression. “ Anything, 
nothing, gives me a little spasm, but it is over already.^’ 

And so it was. Aveline^s first words had told him all. 
It was a sharper disappointment than he had suspected 
himself of being still capable of feeling, as regarded any- 


132 


MAKEYIIJG AND GIVING IN MAEKIAGE. 


thing in connection with his graceless son. ‘‘ I had 
counted on it more than I knew/^ thought Wilfred Ayr- 
ton^s father. ‘‘ It was a sort of last chance for him."’^ 

“ So please go on with what you have to say, my dear — 
Miss Verney,^^ he added, with a momentary hesitation. 

Aveline^s eyes filled with tears. It had pleased her for 
Sir Francis to call her by her Christian name — to fancy 
herself already beginning to fill a daughter’s place to the 
daughterless man. But she forced herself to go on, as he 
bade her. 

I have heard something — accidentally — in fact I over- 
heard it,” she said, slowly, “ which — which has altogether 
changed my opinion of your son, and made, me feel I can 
not marry him. I want to tell it to you, and I must ask 
you to tell me if it is true. ” 

I may perhaps not be able to do so,” replied he. The 
girl puzzled him — there were plenty of old scandals about 
Wilfred from his school-days onward, but of late the father 
had believed him to have been conducting himself better. 
‘‘ Why should she come to me if she has got hold of any of 
liis delinquencies? It would have been more natural to 
speak to her mother, or”— as Lady Christina’s hard face 
rose before him — “ to her father. ” 

“Oh, yes,” said Aveline, “you can, for it has to do 
with you. ’ ’ And then in simple but clear words she related 
what she had overheard. “ It is he himself who has told 
it, you see. Oh, Sir Francis! is it true that you Irihed 
him to marry me? And I — fool that I have been! — do you 
know that I believed that in his way he cared for me — 
that he was, though rough and unattractive, honest and 
disinterested? That was his one recommendation to me, 
and that is gone. ” 

Sir Francis sat for a moment, with his hand so shading 
his face that Aveline could not see it, in perfect silence. 
And for that moment Aveline, in the vividness of her sym- 


MAREYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 133 

pathy with him^ almost brought herself to hope she was 
mistaken. 

“ Is it true?’' she said, at last, very gently. 

The invalid raised himself, and there was a look on his 
face that Aveline had never seen there before, and which 
she never forgot. 

‘‘ Yes,” he said, sharply, “ it is true.” 

One or two tears made their way to her eyes and rolled 
down her face. Sir Francis caught sight of them and his 
voice softened. 

“ I do not wish to exonerate myself,” he said, ‘‘ but 
nevertheless, I should like you to know that I had no hand 
in it, beyond agreeing to what his mother begged me to do. 
She — poor thing — he is her only child, and she thought 
such an end as she hoped for justified all means, I suppose. 
But as you ask me plainly, I answer you in the same way. 
Wilfred would never have dreamed of asking you to marry 
him, but for the material advantages promised to him if he 
succeeded in his suit. And in saying this I infer no sort of 
mortification to you — rather the contrary. My son is a 
man incapalU of appreciating such a woman as you. But 
for your really astounding inexperience, you would have 
felt this yourself. Did you never feel it?” And he looked 
up at her sharply again. 

“ I don’t know,” said Aveline. “ But I believed in his 
disinterestedness — completely.” She sat silent for a mo- 
ment or two. Then a sort of bitterness of indignation came 
over her. “ Sir Francis Ayrton,” she said, “ it was doing 
me a terrible injury to let me do so. No one has any right 
to deceive a girl like that. ” 

Sir Francis hesitated. 

‘‘ No, I suppose not. But I am not going to say any 
more about who was the most to blame. It is useless. 
But you, yourself — ^you could not have loved him? Do you 
think it right to marry a man you could neither love nor 
respect?” 


134 


MARBYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


On her side Aveline hesitated. 

“ I thought I did respect him when I accepted him/^ she 
said; “ and in some ways I continued to think so till yes- 
terday. And I did not dislike him — and — there were so 
many motives. I have been so happy with you and Lady 
Ayrton — and I wanted to be of use to papa and all of them 
at home/^ and here her voice broke down altogether. 

“ Poor child/^ said Sir Francis. ‘‘Yes, you were right 
as regards me. I would have loved you very much as a 
daughter, Aveline — now that I have lost you I see how 
much. For I see the guileless creature she after all really 
is,” he added, to himself. “ But, my dear,” he went on, 
“ as it is pretty certainly the last time we shall ever talk 
together in this way, let me give you a warning. It is 
very seldom — I don^t say never, but very seldom that a love- 
less marriage turns out happily. Of course mutual respect 
is a good foundation — and — when there is that, and a girl 
does not care for any other 77iore, there is less to fear. ” 

He looked keenly at Aveline as he spoke. She felt her- 
self change color. 

“ I — I meant to do right,” she said, faintly. “ Have I 
been all wrong — wrong altogether?” 

“ You are right now, at any rate,” he replied, firmly. 

“ And what shall I do?” she said, with — now that the 
stimulus of her resolution was past — a sort of return to the 
helplessness which so irritated Leonora. “ How can I 
break it off? What shall I say — how can I bear what — 
what mamma will say? Oh, I did not mean that,^^ she 
went on, clasping her hands. “ I should not have said 
that — but it is all so difficult.” 

Sir Francis reflected for a moment. 

“ I will do what I can to make it easier for you,” he 
said. “ I owe you that surely. I will tell my son your 
decision. 

“ Shall you tell him all I have told you?” asked Aveline. 

“ I shall take care that no possible blame shall attach tp 


MAREtIKG AND GlYlNG IN MARRIAGE. l35 

you, either with him if he attempted to throw any on you, 
or with my wife. And if you prefer it, I will also tell your 
father how things stand. 

‘‘ Yes,^^ said Aveline, “ I should be very. grateful if you 
would do so. I do not want to be the cause of — of any dis- 
cussion between my father and mother.^’ 

‘‘ I understand,^ ^ said Sir Francis. “ I will save you all 
the trouble I can. Now, my dear, I must ask you to say 
good-bye. I am very tired. 

“ How thoughtless I have been!^^ exclaimed Aveline, 
starting up. 

‘‘ No, no. I am very weak. It is not your fault. God 
bless you, my dear child! I wish I could have called you 
such in reality. But at least I shall feel no more self- 
reproach on your account. Yes, it is really good-bye,^ ^ as 
he held her hand a moment in his. “We shall leave Paris 
almost immediately now, and — there is no saying how soon 
I may not have to start on a longer journey still. 

“ Good-bye,"^ said Aveline, “ and thank you— for every- 
thing.^^ 

She drew her veil down when she rejoined Elise, and 
held her parasol so, when they got out into the street, that 
neither the maid nor the passers-by should see she was cry- 
ing. 

Her father and mother were fortunately dining out that 
evening without her, so she managed to avoid seeing either 
of them for more than a hurried moment. And she and 
Leonora spent the evening together. 

There was one person who fell asleep that night with a 
lighter heart than for long— that person was Avehne^s 
young sister. 


136 


MARKYIKG AND GIVING IN MAKEIAGE. 


CHAPTER XL 

Aveline woke the next morning with a terrible head- 
ache. Unusual emotion or exertion was apt to result in 
this species of suffering with her. Many a time as a child, 
when some lesson difficulty — for, though gifted with intel- 
lectual capacity considerably above the average, she was 
not a quick or very ready learner— or sharp reprimand from 
her mother had sent her sobbing to bed, had the morning 
found her so overwhelmed with pain as to be for the time 
unable to take in the sense of anything said to her. 

This was the case the day after her strange and painful 
interview with Sir Francis Ayrton. 

It was mdst unfortunate — ‘‘ tiresome and provok- 
ing ” were the real words in her heart — said Lady Christina 
when Lady Ayrton called, as had been arranged, to drive 
Aveline and her mother on a round of shopping. “ She 
has not had such a headache for years. I saw it coming 
on the day before yesterday, at the marriage. Foolish 
child, she is far too impressionable. She was quite upset 
by seeing the ceremony. ” 

“ Poor dear — I love her all the more for it,^’ said Lady 
Ayrton. “ But you will not like to leave her then, Chris- 
tina? We must put off our expedition till to-morrow or 
the day after. 

“ Oh, no,^^ Aveline’s mother replied; she is best left 
alone in perfect quiet. I understand these headaches. I 
believe they can be thrown off by a person of great energy 
and resolution. I myself should be often ill if I let myself 
be so. But Aveline is different. She has much more of 
the Verney laissez alter about her. Why, both my hus- 
band and Bart Verney go down like lead if one of their lit- 
tle fingers aches. And Ave is just the same. They think 
themselves dying on the smallest provocation.^' 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 137 

“ But Aveline does not feel so ill as all that, I trust?^^ 
said Lady Ayrton, anxiously. “ Should you not send for 
the doctor, Christina? It may be the beginning of typhoid 
fever, or gastric fever, or who knows what. 

“ Oh, no, I have seen her too often like that. She will 
be all right in a day or two, or even sooner if she can get a 
good sleep. Leo is watching beside her. I assure you the 
only thing to do is to leave her alone. I am really not 
uneasy, Sophia. 

Of which Sophia was already only rather too well assured. 

“ And what is Wilfred about this morning said Lady 
Christina, amiably, as she settled herself comfortably in 
her friend’s luxurious landau. Material well-being always 
had a soothing effect upon the nerves of Aveline’s mother, 
‘‘ I thought he spoke of coming with us. ” 

“ So he did,” said his mother. But he put his head 
in at the door of my room while I was dressing to come 
out, to say he could not possibly come. He was shut up 
with his father for some time this morning. They are busy 
arranging all about Garthdean — the tiresome part of it, T 
mean. The nice part will come afterward. I expect Sir 
Francis will give Aveline carte Uanche about refurnishing 
it.” 

How delightful!” exclaimed Lady Christina, with 
effusion. “ Dear Sir Francis, how very generous he is!” 

Poor woman ! a very few hours sufficed to bring a dolor- 
ous change over the spirit of her dream. 

That afternoon Mr. Verney was summoned to a private 
talk with Sir Francis Ayrton. At dinner-time he was 
silent and preoccupied in manner, but a very close observer 
might have detected a shade less of anxiety in his expres- 
sion than had been there of late. 

“ How is Ave?” he asked, somewhat abruptly, of his 
wife. 

Oh, it will go off by the morning, I have no doubt,” 


138 MAKRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE, 

she replied, easily. “ She seemed asleep quietly enough 
an hour or two ago.^^ 

“ If she is not decidedly better to-morrow morning, you 
must send for a doctor, said Mr. Verney. ‘‘ She has not 
spoken to you much to-day 

“ Not at all,^^ said Lady Christina. “ She seemed just 
to want to stay quiet. She is always like that when she has 
these headaches. 

Mr. Verney said nothing for a minute or two. Then — 
dinner was nearly over by now — he looked up again. 

“ Christina,^ ’ he said, “ I have a good deal to talk to you 
about this evening. Can you arrange to be quite uninter- 
rupted?^’ 

“ Certainly,” she replied, with some surprise. “Is it 
about the settlements on Aveline? Sophia told me Sir 
Francis would be wanting to talk over business matters 
with you some day soim*^^ 

‘ ‘ He sent for me this afternoon, but it was not to talk 
about the settlements,” said her husband. “ However, we 
had better go into the drawing-room.” 

He rose as he spoke, and held open the door for his wife 
to pass through. 

Lady Christina’s maid was surprised and rather offended 
that evening by the peremptory way in which she was rung 
for, only to be told that she was not required and might go 
to bed. 

“ There’s something hup,” she said to herself as she 
slowly mounted the escalier de service to the sixihne, where, 
on condition of a handsome present on their return to Eng- 
land, she had agreed to sleep, instead of rushing back to 
London the day of their arrival, as she had at first threat- 
ened. “ And I don’t see as my lady need be .so short with 
me, considering the hinterest I feel in the family — especially 
in Miss Verney, poor dear. There’ll be something to be 
thankful for if she’s not down with typhoid fever, as it’s 
called nowadays. And no wonder if it were, with these 


MARRYIITG AKD GIYllTG IN MARRIAGE. 


139 


queer ways of living — families one on top of another like 
berths in a steamer — which it stands to reason can^t be 
wholesome. 

She was not a bad-hearted woman, and Lady Christina 
was not a bad mistress, and she could hardly have helped 
pitying Aveline’s mother had she seen her, as she then 
was — sobbing, weeping bitter tears of disappointment at 
the news her husband had told her, that her daughter's en- 
gagement to Wilfred Ayrton was once for all and irrevo- 
cably broken off. 

“ And what are we to do about Chris — and all the other 
troubles?^^ had been her first exclamation, when she had 
realized the terrible fact. 

I don^t know. I can’t say. But at least we shall not 
have sold — ^yes, sold—om daughter, Christina,” was his 
reply. 

He had promised Sir Francis, for Eveline’s sake, to say 
nothing to stir up any avoidable bitterness on his wife’s 
part. And, except for this one outburst, he had controlled 
himself well. 

Lady Christina burst into tears. 

“How can you speak so cruelly?” she sobbed out. 
“You know my motives, Owen. I only want to do the 
best for our children. ” 

“ Then be thankful that Fate, or Providence, has thwarted 
what could never have turned out a best for the eldest, and, 
I can almost say, the dearest of them,” he replied, sternly. 

“ I can not help feeling as if it were Aveline’s fault,” she 
said to herself afterward, when alone, “ though I have 
given my word not to resent it to her. And perhaps she 
is not to blame. It must be something seriously wrong 
with Wilfred Ayrton for his own father to take part 
against him, as it were. But it might as well have waited 
to come out till they were married. For then, whatever it 
had been, they would have had to take care of Aveline. 
Ho, I can not help it. I do feel as if it were her doing, and 


l40 MARRYING- AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

I must not show it. After all my exertions for her, it is 
too hard.-’^ 

She was not of a temperament to sob herself to sleep like 
her daughter; she lay awake nearly all the night, longing 
for the morning, and was up and about earlier than usual, 
finding in restless energy only any relief from her aching 
disappointment. 

The first post brought a letter from her friend. Its 
handwriting was of the shakiest; it was blurred and blotted 
with tears. 

‘‘You will know by your own feelings what I am suffer- 
ing,^^ wrote poor Lady Ayrton — “ or, rather, you can not 
know. Without selfishness I must say it is far, far worse 
for me than for you. It seems to me that till now I had 
never realized to the full what hopes I had built on the 
project so cruelly dashed to pieces. But I have promised 
Francis to say very little, and it is true it would be useless. 
We are leaving Paris almost immediately. I shall look for- 
ward to seeing you, dearest Christina, in England before 
long, when perhaps a little time may have soothed the 
present bitterness of regret. 

“ Worse for her than for me, indeed, said Lady Chris- 
tina. “ Sophia is more than half a fool, but that I always 
knew. Worse for her than for me, indeed! Has she seven 
children, and none of them provided for in any way; an 
income on which it is impossible to live; a husband who 
has no sympathy, and is as obstinate as a mule once he 
takes up a notion? IPs no worse for her about her son 
than it has always been. Every one has known since he 
was a school-boy that he was a coarse, selfish young brute, 
and Sophia need not pretend to have discovered his delin- 
quencies for the first time. But I must answer it, I sup- 
pose; and, by the by, I had better go and see how Aveline 
is, as she particularly asks for news of her.^^ 

For, in a postscript. Lady Ayrton entreated to be told if 
“ dear Aveline^s headache had left her. 


MARRYIITG AKD GIVING IN MAKRIAGE. 141 

It had not done so. She was very little, if at all, better 
than the day before. Lady Christina began to feel a little 
anxious. Provoked and irritated as she was, she could not 
but be conscious of a pang of pity as Aveline looked up with 
her sad, tired eyes, as if apologizing for being ill, and tried 
to say she was better. 

“I am so sorry, mamma, she whispered, the tears 
welling out as she said it. With the rupture of her en- 
gagement, with the knowledge of the keenness of her 
mother^s disappointment — for Leonora had noticed enough 
at breakfast "that morning to be able to assure her sister 
that “ mamma knew — the hard, cold indignation of the 
last few weeks had melted away. She felt herself to be, as 
it were, deserving of Lady Christina^s wrath; weak and 
worn out by all she had gone through, she was almost ready 
to fall back into the old groove of well-nigh slavish submis- 
sion. 

‘‘ I don^t mind how harsh mamma is to me,^^ she said to 
Leo. I will bear anything, I am so sorry for her; and 
the worst of it is, I know I must ahuays, now, be a source 
of disappointment to her. For I don’t think I shall ever 
marry, Leo — and that is the only thing I could have done 
to please her. If I could — if I might but work for her and 
for you all! Oh! if I were only a man!” 

But such thoughts only aggravated her suffering — and 
then the terrible headache, except at rare intervals, almost 
deadened her. She was to be kept perfectly quiet at all 
costs, the doctor said, otherwise he would not answer for 
the consequences. And Leo, a born sick-nurse, managed 
to soothe her by saying they would talk it all over after- 
ward, there was no telling what plans they might not think 
of for really helping poor mamma — what Ave had to do 
now was to lie still and try to get well. 

And by slow degrees the pain began to decrease, and the 
symptoms of brain disturbance to disappear. 

“ She will do now,” said the doctor, provided, that is 


142 makrying and giving in marriage. 

to say, you continue to keep her out of the way of any ex- 
citement. A change to the country would be the best 
thing if you could possibly manage it.^^ 

And Mr. Verney as he kissed his daughter, telling her 
cheerily that all would be right, now that she was going to 
be a sensible girl and get well, wished indeed it were pos- 
sible. 

But material cares were pressing heavily on him, poor 
man, at this time. A few weeks would bring -his mission 
to Paris to an end, and it was only too clear that the ex- 
penses of the family sojourn there would be considerably in 
excess of the extra pay. It had been found absolutely nec- 
essary to place Chris with a private crammer, if he were to 
have any hope of passing his examination for Woolwich; 
and Arthur, the second boy, would be leaving school at 
midsummer, and nothing had been decided as to his career. 
Then the younger ones, there was no denying, were “ com- 
ing on^^ at an alarming rate. And Bart Verney, the 
kindest of brothers, had done all he could, more almost than 
he was justified in doing. Where to turn for help to tide 
over the present crisis Lady Christina's husband truly did 
not know. 

In any case, country air for Aveline was out of the ques- 
tion. 

‘‘ She will go back to London looking infinitely worse 
than when she came away. I wish I had come over here 
alone and left them all safe at home. It would have saved 
money, too, and this wretched business would never have 
come about," thought the father, though in the bottom of 
his heart he was not without a shrewd suspicion that this 
very “ business " — the prospect of its coming to pass that 
is to say — had been at the root of Lady Christina's deter- 
mination to transport the whole family across the Channel. 
But there is great comfort in the truism that, at the worst, 
things must take a turn. They had got to the worst, ap- 
parently, by this time with the Verneys. For, just as 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 143 

Aveline began to creep about again thin and languid, gmte- 
ful with a half -shrinking gratitude, painful to see, for her 
mother’s somewhat grudgingly-bestowed kindness^ and 
Lady Christina had added up the Paris bills for the twenti- 
eth time, in vain hopes that she had overestimated their 
amount, down came a good fairy in the shape of faithful 
' old Mme. de Boncoeur, full of sympathy, curiosity, and 
genuine concern, and, most valuable of all, practical readi- 
ness to help. 

‘‘I have known nothing,” she said. Since the mar- 
riage a fortnight ago ” — was it only a fortnight ago? 
thought Aveline, from her sofa in the corner of the room — - 
“ Alice and I are at Chateau Villers, her little place near 
Montmorenci — shut up, seeing no one. We wanted a resty 
and we missed the child — and she and Maurice came to 
for two nights. Now they are with his people, and will 
join us next week, and we shall all go together to Bour- 
gogne next month. J ust now we only come into Paris for 
a day now and then. But why did you not write, Chris- 
tine, to tell us of this poor darling’s illness? It was not 
treating us like true friends, my child. ’’ 

Lady Christina glanced at her daughter. 

“I thought of writing,” she said, ‘‘but so much has 
happened. I have been so busy and so terribly engrossed. 
Then Aveline’s illness seemed to put everything wrong. ” 

“ Naturally,” said the old lady. “ But still, things 
might be worse. The child is getting better. It is not 
like you to lose heart, Christine. ” 

For all answer Lady Christina threw her arms round her 
old friend’s neck and burst into tears. 

“ No,” she said, “ I don’t think things could be much 
worse.” 

Aveline was terribly startled. She had never before seen 
her mother cry — “ not like that, at least,” she told Leo 
afterward; and the tears of a hard, practical, unemotional 
nature, when they do come, are painful to see. 


144 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

“ Mamma/ ^ she said, “ dear mamma and she tried to 
get up and cross the room. But the words were faint, and 
the effort to speak seemed to choke her. In another mo- 
ment she had fallen back on the sofa unconscious. 

It was not a very bad faint; it was but the natural result 
of the agitation in the girBs weakened state. But it fright- 
ened Lady Christina thoroughly. Never since her child- 
hood had Aveline known her mother so genuinely anxious 
and tender. 

‘‘It is like when I was little, and had the measles, 
mamma dear,^^ she whispered, when she was, comparatively 
speaking, well again and able to be left in Leo’s charge, 
while her mother went off with Mme. de Boncoeur for the 
good talk on which the old lady insisted. 

“ She is very weak, poor child,’’ said she, shaking her 
head sagely, when she found herself alone with Christina. 

“ Yes. The doctor says she should have country air. 
But it is impossible. We shall be returning to London in 
less than three weeks, and I have so much upon me to see 
about already. It is quite impossible. ” 

“ I don’t know about that,” said the old lady. “But 
first — tell me more, my dear Christine. You said much 
had happened, and I can see it has not been of a pleasant 
kind. Tell me all. I have known you nearly all your life. 
I am an old woman, and — I am a rich woman, Christine. 
Do not have any false pride. ” 

For she was a very shrewd old woman, too. She guessed 
pretty correctly that no troubles were so likely to overcome 
Christina so completely as those connected with money. 

And Lady Christina told her all — all, that is to say, that 
she herself knew. For as to the exact nature of the causes 
of the rupture of Aveline’s engagement. Sir Francis Ayr- 
ton and Mr. Verney had determined to be silent. 

“ There were disgraceful things that came out about the 
young man. I do not know all the particulars, and of 
course Aveline will never know. Owen and Sir Francis 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


145 


had an interview, and Aveline had already got frightened 
by something she had overheard. I don’t know exactly 
how it was. I was forbidden to talk to her about it. She 
was already ill. But all was given up. It had to be. His 
poor mother feels terribly. ” 

“ Yes,’^ said Mme. de Boncceur, “ it is of course much 
worse for her than for you.^^ 

“That is what she said,^ ’ replied Lady Christina, in 
some surprise. “ Do you think so too.^ I can not see it. 
It is no case of pounds, shillings, and pence to them” she 
added, with a bitterness which prevented the coarseness of 
the speech from being too conspicuous. But to the prac- 
tical, matter-of-fact old Frenchwoman it would not in any 
case, perhaps, have appeared in that light. 

“ Ho," she agreed, “ that is true. And such cases are 
very serious; but still, Christina, they are not the worst. 
But tell me all, my dear. Is it anything new about your 
sons?^^ 

It was a great relief to Lady Christina to be able to un- 
bosom herself of all her troubles to so kind and sympathiz- 
ing a listener. Mme. de Boncceur remained more than an 
hour closeted with her, and when the old lady left, it was 
with the kindliest “ au revoir then, till to-morrow, when I 
will call for Aveline. " 

And Lady Christina^s face looked ten years younger 
when she rejoined her daughters. 

“ She is the best and kindest woman in the world, she 
exclaimed with, for her, rare effusiveness. “ Aveline, you 
are sure to get well now. Madame de Boncceur is coming 
to fetch you to-morrow to take you out to the country for 
ten days or so. And you will see Modeste;'she and her 
husband are to be at Chateau Villers next week — you will 
like that?'^ 

“ Yes, indeed, mamma,^^ Aveline replied, while a faint 
color rose to her jmle cheeks, “there could be nothing I 
should like so much. And I shall get quite strong, you 


146 


MARRYIKG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


will see, and come back able to help you with all you will 
have to do when the time comes for going home. Mam- 
ma, dear,^^ she went on, with a touching appeal in her 
voice, ‘‘ you have been so kind to me — you will let me be 
a very useful daughter to you now? It is all I can do. 

“ You must get strong first of all,^^ said Lady Christina„ 
Her tone was a little hard; but Aveline did not mind; it 
was a good deal not to be answered, as she often had been, 
with chilling contempt. 

Aveline,^’ said her mother, when Leonora had left the 
room, “ I have not told you all that that good, kind friend 
has done. She has given me a check for ten thousand 
francs — four hundred pounds, Aveline. She insisted on 
it; she wanted even to make it more; she made me tell her 
all our anxieties. This will tide over the i3resent difiicul- 
ties, and, if only Chris gets through, the worst will surely 
be over. 

‘‘ Oh, mamma, how good of her!^^ exclaimed Aveline. 

‘‘ She is my oldest friend in the world, it is true. That 
takes away the feeling of obligation,^ ^ said Lady Christina. 

But Aveline thought to herself that not many “ oldest 
friends in the world would be capable of such thoughtful 
generosity. 

The next day saw Aveline safely installed at the Chateau 
de Villers under the kind care of Mme. de Boncoeur and her 
daughter. 

And that same day Sir Francis and Lady Ayrton left 
Paris for London. Their son was to have accompanied 
them, but an hour or two before they were to leave a let- 
ter was brought to Sir Francis by a special messenger. 

“ What^s this?’^ he said, impatiently. Some bill, I 
suppose. You told me you were certain everything was 
settled?^ ^ he went on, turning to the courier. 

“I am quite sure of it, sir,^^he replied. ‘‘It may, 
perhaps, be something of Mr. Ayrton ^s,’^ he added, in a 
lower voice. . 


MARRYIKG ATO GIVIKG 11^ MARRIAGE. 147 

“ If SO, I have nothing to do with it, and it should not 
be addressed to me,^^ said Sir Francis, as he proceeded to 
open it. The writing was not like that of a tradesman — 
of a French tradesman, especially — and the name and title 
were correctly given in the English way. 

Sir Francis’s face changed as he read the opening words. 
It changed still further as he read on. Finally, a grim 
smile, half cynical, half contemptuous, settled on to his 
face. 

I suppose it is what one might have expected,” he 
said; “ I suppose it might have been worse — it might have 
been a bar-maid or a ballet-girl — and in this case, at least, 
if it is so one does not know it. But oh, spirits of my an- 
cestors of Ayrton Manor and Garthdean!” 

There was no time, however, for indulgence in reflec- 
tions, cynical or otherwise. Lady Ayrton at that moment 
entered the room. 

‘^All is ready. I hope you are feeling pretty well, 
Francis. But I can not imagine what has become of Wil- 
fred. He went out very early indeed this morning, and 
has not come back. But all his things are packed, Irving 
says. ” 

Irving was Mr. Ayrton’s own man. 

“ Ah!” said Sir Francis, and again the grim smile over- 
spread his face. Sophia, try to be sensible and not ex- 
cite yourself; listen quietly, my poor dear.” 

It was long since her husband had addressed her so sym- 
pathizingly. Lady Ayrton thought something very dread- 
ful must be coming. She grew deadly pale, and clutched 
at the table to support herself, but she endeavored to re- 
main calm. 

What — what is it, Francis? What has happened to 
Wilfred? Has he had an accident? Is he — oh, no, you 
could not smile in that way if it were so.” 

“ Bead this for yourself. You see it is his own writ- 
ing,” said Sir Francis. 


148 MARRYiN'G ANi) GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

And, so far reassured. Lady Ayrton read as follows; 

“ My dear Father, — I did my best, as you and niy 
mother know, to marry to please you. It isn^t my fault 
that that affair came to grief. I now write to tell you 
that by the time you get this I shall have married to please 
myself. The lady is Miss Lucilla Greenflier; my mother 
will remember having seen her. I sha^n^t trouble you 
about money matters — she has lots for us both — so I can 
leave all that to you. There was such a lot of bother 
about the other affair, that I and Lucilla settled to man- 
age all for ourselves. She^s the handsomest girl Fve seen 
for a long time, and just the sort to suit me. 

“ Your affectionate son, 

“ Wilfred T. Ayrton. 

‘‘ P.S. — Irving knows what to do with my things. 

“ Address Hotel des Etats-Unis, Bdsle, till further 
notice. Bon voyage, to which Lucilla joins. 

Lady- Ayrton’s pale lips moved, but no word escaped 
them. 

‘‘ Come now, my dear Sophia, don’t take on, as the old 
women say,” said Sir Francis, kindly, but much in the 
tone he would have used to a child. “ I assure you it 
might have been worse. You’ve seen the girl?” 

“ Yes,” half whispered Lady Ayrton, “ the very worst 
style of American. A great strapping creature, fearfully 
overdressed. Handsome — yes, I suppose so. ” 

“ She’ll keep him in order,” said Sir Francis, with a 
grim chuckle. “ She’s a sharp young woman. No doubt 
she satisfied herself that enough of the property is entailed 
to secure his position, and beyond that she probably does 
not care. They are rich; I have heard of them. So she 
has bought herself a title — and a precious young scamp as 
a husband. But I am very much mistaken if Master Wil- 
fred’s halcyon days of liberty are not at an end.” 


Marrying and giving In marriage. 140 

“ What shall you do?^^ asked Lady Ayrton. 

“Do? Just what we are going to do — cross to-day, and 
when we get to town send for Daunt — his lawyer — “ and 
talk it over with him. He must satisfy himself that the 
marriage is perfectly regular, probably interview the lady 
or her guardians, if she has any, and find out what she 
has, if she chooses to tell. Then I must give him a fitting 
allowance, and — 

“ Not Garthdean,^^ interrupted his wife; “ somehow it 
would seem to be unendurable — that American parvemte 
installed at Garthdean.^^ 

“ I agree with you,^^ said Sir Francis; “ no, they shall 
not have "Garthdean, nor any of the landed property that 
is not entailed. I must consider things over. There are 
my cousin LioneFs boys — very decent fellows, I believe. 
And as to ourselves, Sophia, for the short time it will 
probably be, we shall be more at peace, I trust. I shall 
try to be more patient. 

Lady Ayrton^s tears were dropping by now. 

“ DonH speak of a short time, Francis. Kemember — 
you are all I have now. 


CHAPTER XH. 

The summer had come and gone. It had been a hot 
one, even in England, but by the end of September stormy 
weather set in suddenly. A traveler arriving at Boulogne 
very early one morning from the south was met, to his an- 
noyance, by the announcement that the tidal packet was 
not crossing. 

“ What a nuisance he exclaimed in French. “ I 
must go on to Calais, I suppose, by the next train, for he 
had got out of the railway carriage before hearing the 
news, and the train was already moving out of the station. 

“ Monsieur will have plenty of time to rest himself and 


150 MAREYIKO and GiVlNO IK MARRIAGE. 

eat at the hotel close to the station, said, insinuatingly, an 
employe from that same hotel, hanging about the station 
on the lookout for waifs and strays stranded there by the 
unusual state of things. Monsieur will find it very com- 
fortable. We have already several rooms occupied by 
travelers. A poor English milord is very ill; the rough 
crossing yesterday knocked liim up. They were obliged to 
remain, he, and madame, and the servants. He is very 
ill, I fear. I was sent for the doctor at midnight.’^ 

The two, the Englishman and the hotel emissary, were 
by this time in the street, the latter carrying the stranger^s 
rugs and dressing-bag. The gentleman was tired and 
sleepy; he had come straight through from Madrid, and 
the chatter of his companion passed by almost unheeded. 
Suddenly a word caught his attention. 

“Sir Ayrton,^ ^ the man was saying. “He is perhaps 
a friend of monsieur^s, being a compatriot. 

“ Sir, what name did you say? You donT think all 
Englishmen are friends, do you? But what name did you 
say?'^ 

“ Ayrton, repeated the man, giving it the French pro- 
nunciation. “ Sir Ayrton; I can spell it for monsieur,’^ 
which he proceeded to do. 

He had seen by the style of traveling of the invalid and 
his wife that they were people of wealth, and their sudden 
arrival at the hotel, and the excitement of the whole affair, 
had made considerable sensation. He was in a frame of 
mind very open to pourhoires, and delighted to have at 
last attracted the new-comer’s attention. 

A respectable, staid-looking personage, bearing courier 
in every feature of his face and line of his figure, was cross- 
ing the entrance of the hotel as they went in. 

“ And the poor gentleman, how is he? Anything more 
that I can fetch for him?” inquired the commissionaire, 
or whatever he was, obtrusively. 

The courier stopped short and looked at him. 


MARRYIl^’G AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 151 

“ The doctor will be coming again directly/^ he said, 
“ just wait about till he does. I want him to advise ma- 
dame to send for a gardemalade. There are such to be 
got here, I suppose?’^ 

“ Oh, yes, doubtless. The sisters are in the next 
street,’^ replied the man. 

The stranger in his turn accosted the courier. 

“ 1 fancy I have seen you before,^’ he said. “ Are you 
— were you in attendance on Sir Francis Ayrton last spring 
in Paris 

The poor courier’s face, which had been clouded with 
anxiety, brightened up. 

‘‘ Ah, yes, sir; I am with him six months of every year. 
But we have never had such a catastrophe before. He 
would cross yesterday, though my lady and I begged him 
not, and he has nearly, if not quite, killed himself. And 
here we are, quite alone, and my lady so upset, and the 
maid no use. May I ask your name, sir? It would be a 
great comfort to my lady to meet with a friend. I, too, 
remember your face, I think, sir.” 

The gentleman began rummaging in his coat-pocket — 
he drew out a card. 

“ Here,” he said, “ take this to Lady Ayrton, with my 
compliments. If she would like to see me I am quite at 
her service.” 

Luigi hastened upstairs; he was too well-bred to study 
the card in its owner’s presence, but he had no sooner 
reached the landing than he set himself to do so. 

‘‘Mr. Nigel Hereward!” he exclaimed. “Ah! to be 
sure; I have it now. ‘ Secretaire a VEmhassade de S, M. 
Brittannique, ’ To be sure. ' He was then at Paris — now, 
it appears, at Madrid. What a piece of good fortune! 
Ah, my lady,” he continued, as he opened the door of a 
sitting-room, “good news,” and his thin, dark, kindly 
face gleamed. 

“ Has the doctor been again? Does he think him bet- 


152 MAKRYIITG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

ter?^^ exclaimed Lady Ayrton, starting up from the sofa, 
where she had been persuaded to take a little rest, 

“ No, no, my lady. Sir Francis is sleeping quietly. 
The doctor has not returned. It is that I have met a 
friend of your ladyship^s— a gentleman now in the hotel; 
he sends this, and would be enchanted to be of any serv- 
ice. 

With which rather flowery translation of Mr. Hereward^’s 
simple message, he held out the card. 

Lady Ayrton took it eagerly. 

“Nigel Here ward!” she exclaimed. “Oh, I am, in- 
deed, very thankful. Beg him to come up at once, if he 
will, Luigi.” 

The courier had disappeared almost before she had fin- 
ished the sentence. Two minutes more brought a knock 
at the door, followed by a “ May I come in?” in a remem- 
bered voice. 

The poor lady hurried forward, both hands outstretched. 

“Oh, Mr. Hereward!” she cried. “You donT know 
how thankful I am to see the face of a friend. I am in 
such trouble; has Luigi told you? I — I don^t know what 
to think of Sir Francis, or what the doctor really thinks;” 
and her voice broke down, as if the tears she had evidently 
been shedding were not far off. “I am afraid he is very 
ill, he is so very — so patient and gentle and subdued. I 
would give anything to hear him scolding a little,” she 
added, with a wintery smile. 

NigeFs sympathy was at once aroused. 

“I am so sorry for you,” he replied, coixlially. “It 
was the bad crossing, your courier told me. ” 

“ Yes; Sir Francis never will consent to give up, once 
we have started, and he could not believe it would be so 
bad. And he was almost knocked over, and dreadfully 
shaken. He fainted on the boat — we thought we should 
never get him here. And the doctor wonH tell me exact- 
ly what he thinks. ” 


MAERYING AKi) GIVIl^G m MARRIAGE. 153 

‘‘And you are alone? Will you not telegraph to — to 
your son? Can I do that for you?^^ he asked. 

“ To tell you the truth, I am by no means sure where 
they are. They are terrible gad-abouts,^^ she said, with 
another little attempt at a smile. “ And I should not care 
to send for Wilfred unless his father expressed a wish for 
him. You see, we do not know his wife, and I am certain 
Sir Francis could not endure to have her here. And if he 
came, she would come too. She never leaves him — I must 
say she seems to be a good wife. But — it would never do 
for her to come. 

Mr. Here ward felt and looked completely bewildered. 

“ You do not know Mrs. Ayrton,^^ he said; “ not know 
Av — Miss Yerney?^^ 

Lady Ayrton grew crimson. 

“ Did you not know?^^ she said. “ Have you not heard 
of our sad disappointment? That was to have been, but it 
fell through. My son married an American. And to you, 
an old friend like you, Mr. Hereward, I may say for once 
what I feel is due to her — to that sweet girl. My son was 
not good enough for her. But it was to us a most sad dis- 
appointment. 

Mr. Hereward bowed as gravely as if the fact of Wilfred 
Ayrton’s “ not being good enough for her were an en- 
tirely new suggestion. And no one would have suspected 
from the perfect calm of his outward demeanor the rush 
of joy that had filled his heart at Lady Ayrton’s explana- 
tion. 

“ It is not that /am any the more likely to win her,” 
he reflected. “ But, at least, there is not that awful feel- 
ing of desecration, as it were, connected with her now. 
The thought of her marrying that fellow was too unendur- 
able. And after all — ” His thoughts ran on in a kind of 
recklessness, the result of the reaction from the under- 
lock-and-key condition in which all these months he had 
held them. “After all, we are neither of us old yet — 


15 i MAERYI1?G AND GIVING IN MARKIAGN. 

‘ while there is youth, ^ at least, ‘ there is hope.^ Who 
knows what may happen? 

“ ‘Perhaps some night> 

When new things happen, a meteor-ball 
May slip through the sky.’ 

Who knows? At least, I can think of her again now; and 
how little this morning did I imagine that would be the 
case before night?” 

And all this time poor Lady Ayrton was meandering 
plaintively on with the story of her woes, firmly believing 
that Mr. Hereward was giving her his full attention. Her 
voice stopping at last brought him to himself with a shock. 
But before he had time to risk her discovery of his ab- 
straction by a random answer, a tap at the door made 
them look round. It was Luigi again. 

My master. Sir Francis, is awake. I told him of mon- 
sieur — Mr. Hereward being here. He begs to see you, sir, 
at once. 

“ Oh, Luigi,” said Lady Ayrton, tremulously, “ do you 
think you have done right? Has it not excited him terri- 
bly?” 

‘'Not at all, not at all, my lady,” Luigi exclaimed, 
eagerly. His eyes were gleaming and his face brimful of 
satisfaction. “You will see, it will do him more good 
than anything. If monsieur will accompany me — 

“As I am?” said Nigel. “ Fve been traveling all 
night and l\e been smoking. Fm not very fit for an in- 
valid ^s room.” 

“ It will not matter, he is so impatient,^ ^ urged Luigi. 

So Nigel gave in and followed the courier down the long 
passage. 

“ Sir Francis's own man had preceded us to Cannes to 
get all in order there,” Luigi went on. “ We have always 
done thus when we made the journey through, staying but 


MAREYING AKD GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


155 


one night in Paris, and never before has there been a con- 
tretemps, 

He opened the door, and Nigel entered the darkened 
room. At first he could scarcely distinguish Sir Francises 
features — his face was as white as the pillows on which his 
gray, almost white, hair made but a faint shadow. 

‘‘lam grieved — began Mr. Here ward, gently lifting 
the thin hand feebly held out. 

“ I am so delighted to see you,^^ interrupted Sir Fran- 
cis, cheerily; “ I can not think of anything else. Tell 
me, Hereward, are you very pressed for time? Where are 
you bound for? Can you delay your journey a few 
hours? 

Nigel reflected — he was too considerate to make any rash 
promise on the spur of the mementos feeling. 

I think I can,^-^ he said. “ 1 am going home on a few 
weeks’ leave; but a day or two more or less is not of vital 
importance.- There is a marriage — my sister-in-law’s sis- 
ter’s — they wanted me to be at, but I don’t think it would 
much matter. Home, in the strict sense of the word, you 
know, I have none.” 

“You are very good,” said Sir Francis. His voice 
sounded even feebler than in the first flush of eager greet- 
ing. “ I will tell you what I want of you. The doctor 
here is a fool — not professionally, perhaps — indeed, I fancy 
he is sharp and clever. But he will not tell me the truth 
about myself. I want you to see him and get it out of 
him. As far as I can judge by former attacks, though I 
have never had so bad a one as this, it is a question of the 
next few hours. If the worst symptoms lessen within that 
time there is a chance of my pulling through till the next 
attack (I shall not live through another, of that I feel 
sure), and I should like you to stay till this is decided, so 
that she, my poor wife, may not be utterly alone. But, 
above all, if there is this chance, don’t for Heaven’s sake I 


156 MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

telegraph for any one yet. Let that be at the very last— • 
you understand his voice was growing almost inaudible. 

Nigel bowed his head. 

“ I will go and see the doctor at once/^ he said. “ In 
the meantime, try to keep quiet — ^you will do so, will you 
not, dear sir?^^ 

Sir Francis smiled faintly. 

“ It will be easier now,^^ he said. I shall do my best. 
I don^t want to die here — at least let it be in my own 
house. 

And Mr. Here ward, entering with quick instinct and 
sympathy into the invalid ^s feelings, went o:^ at once to the 
doctor, whom, by good luck, he found at home. When he 
left the doctor^s house it was to go to the telegraph office. 
But the telegram was to none of the Ayrton belongings. 
It was to his own brother, and to the effect that he might be 
detained some days at Boulogne, and expressing his regret 
at not being able to be present at the marriage. 

Then he returned to the hotel and made his way cau- 
tiously upstairs. A very slight tap at the door brought 
Luigi, eager and alert as ever. 

“ Not asleep?’^ whispered Nigel. 

“No, no — anxious to see you,^^ said the courier, open- 
ing the door. Mr. Hereward entered and approached the 
bed. 

“ Sir Francis,^' he said at once and without preamble, 
“ I have seen the doctor. It is as you thought. You 
have a good chance of pulling through if the next few 
hours bring no aggravation of the bad symptoms. 

“ That is better than I thought, said Sir Francis. 

“ It is the truth, exactly. But even if all goes well, you 
must keep yourself absolutely quiet, free from all agitation 
for some days to come. And that you may feel more at 
rest — you kindly said my being here was a satisfaction — I 
have telegraphed home to Eoderick that I shall be detained 


MAREYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 157 

here some days — in fact/^ he added, with a smile, as 
long as you want me. 

A mist came over the eyes of the sick man. 

Hereward, you are very good; I can not thank you 
enough. And it is not the first time. You did your best 
for that graceless boy at school. I am heavily in your 
debt.^^ 

Don^t put it in that way,^^ said Nigel; “ it is a pleas- 
ure. Let me see you do all you can to get well by keeping 
quiet. 

‘‘ I will, I will,^'’ Sir Francis replied. 

‘‘ Good God!^^ he murmured to himself as Nigel left the 
room, why could I not have had a son like that?’"’ 

And not till he had seen Lady Ayrton, and, after ex- 
plaining to her the real state of things, had persuaded her 
to go to bed and try to sleep for some hours, promising 
that she might then sit up all night with Sir Fi’ancis if she 
liked, did Mr. Hereward remember that he was both hun- 
gry and tired 'himself. 

The next few days passed like a curious dream to Nigel. 
Here he was installed almost in the place of a son to the 
parents of the man whom less than a week ago he had at 
once envied and hated with an intensity which it now ap- 
palled him to realize — nay, he had been near to hating Sir 
Francis and his wife themselves. He had tried and longed 
to hate Avelifie, and imagined that he had succeded in de- 
spising her. And now any pretext even for that mitigated 
form of hatred was taken from him. 

For Sir Francis, once his convalescence was established, 
had made good use of his time. He had confided to Nigel 
much, though not all, of what had passed in Paris after the 
young man had left, and in so doing he had made himself 
master of a secret he had long been curious to know. 

“ Yes,^^ he said one day, “ she is one of the best and 
sweetest girls possible. Where she erred it was from good 
though mistaken motives, and — 


158 


MAKETING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


“ Her father is a man I have the greatest respect for/^ 
interrupted Nigel. He could not bear to hear Aveline^s 
conduct discussed, even by Sir Francis. It is only a pity 
he lets the reins slip so much out of his own hands. 

Sir Francis smiled, urbanely. 

But with a Lady Christina for a wife, my dear fel- 
low — he said, deprecating] y. “ Shall you see them when 
you go over?’^ he inquired. 

Mr. Hereward shook his head. 

“ I hardly tliink so,^^ he replied. “ One is never sure of 
seeing any one at this time of the year, and I shall scarcely 
stay in town at all. Besides, my leave is very short. My 
brother wanted to see me about business matters of his 
own, otherwise I should have preferred to wait till later 
and get a longer holiday. 

‘‘And short as your time was I have made it still 
shorter, said Sir Francis, regretfully. 

“ Pray don^t speak of it so,’^ said the young man. “ I 
am so very pleased, so thankful to have been of use-— as you 
ivill say I have been, he added, with a smile. 

“ It is not only I that say so; ask Luigi, ask the doctor. 
I began to turn the corner from the moment I knew there 
was some one reliable at hand. That first night was horri- 
ble, he went on, with a shudder, “ when I came to my- 
self and found where I was, and imagined myself dying 
here, and Wilfred and that American swooping down upon 
us and having things all their own way, and poor Sophia 
quite helpless and alone. Now, if I get through this win- 
ter, and get home again for another summer, I shall be 
more than thankful, and I shall never leave home again. 

But his “ getting through the winter and seeing home 
again seemed a very doubtful prospect in the eyes of Mr. 
Hereward the morning he at last saw his friends off, and 
he was somewhat surprised at every one else not sharing 
his misgivings. 

“You really think he willlive to get to Calais,^" Mr, 


MARKYIKG AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 159 

Hereward asked, anxiously, when the train had moved out 
of the station and he turned to say good-bye to the doctor, 
who had accompanied him to see them off. 

‘‘ Oh, yes, oh, dear, yes,"^ he replied. “ He may go on 
pretty comfortably until another attack— and that, as he 
seems to feel himself, will be the last. But that may not 
be for long — a year, two years, who knows? It is you who 
have done the most to get him round this time,^^ he added, 
politely. 

So, for more reasons than one, Mr. Hereward did not 
regret the storm which had weather-bound him that Sep- 
tember day at Boulogne. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

September again, but early September, and a very dif- 
ferent scene from the storm-tossed Boulogne coast a year 
ago. It is as sunny and warm as midsummer; such things 
as wind and tempest must surely be altogether unknown in 
this sheltered corner of old France, where one could pict- 
ure the peaceful lives of the inhabitants droning on one 
century after another with little change or excitement. 

I do love this terrace so much. It must be warm and 
sheltered even in win ter, said the taller of two girls who 
were sauntering up and down a wide graveled walk run- 
ning along one side of an old chdteau. There were broad 
shallow steps both upward and downward from the terrace, 
and great green painted boxes containing orange-trees at 
regular intervals, and down below, here and there among 
the trees, which made a sort of miniature forest on this 
side of the house, garden seats and tiny summer-houses 
were dotted about temptingly. 

Her companion shook her head. 

“ Ah, as for that I should be sorry to answer. The 
winter is not long here, but it comes sharply and suddenly. 


160 MAEEYING AND GIVING IN MAEEIAGE. 

Of late years we have never risked meeting it here, foi* 
grandmamma could not stand cold now/^ 

“It is nearly a month since I came/^ said the first 
speaker again. “ It does not seem nearly so long to me. 
You don^t know how I have looked forward to coming, 
Modeste. And I have enjoyed it so much.” 

“ Not more than we have enjoyed having you. Maurice 
says you must certainly come to us every year — it is one of 
the nice things in England that girls can pay visits to their 
friends in this way — at least till you are married. 

“ Then you may look forward to having a long series of 
visits from me,” said Aveline, laughing. “ I shall never 
marry, Modeste. I am twenty-three years now, and I 
think I can tell.” 

Young Mme. de Bois-Hubert looked sorry. 

“ I hope you will,” she said. “It is so sad not to be 
married — at least so we think. In England it is not 
thought quite the same. ” 

“ It would appear so, certainly,” said Aveline. “ So 
many women are never married. But they donT all look 
as if it was because they had never cared to marry,^^ she 
went on,- with a little laugh. “ It seems badly managed 
somehow — I feel as if I should manage better if I were a 
mother with daughters; but perhaps I should be just as 
puzzled as other people. I am almost like a mother as it 
is — with Leo. I do so hope that nothing will ever make 
her unhappy. ” 

“ There is no fear,” said Modeste, with a little hesita- 
tion, “ of your mother wishing her to marry any one she 
does not care for.^’ 

“ Leo would not do it. She has more decision of char- 
acter than I have. And besides — no, I think poor mam- 
ma has left off making plans. It makes me sorry to think 
that I shall probably always be a disappointment to her. 
We must hope things will go better with Leonora. 

“ But you said, dear Aveline, that you had not been un- 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


161 


happy all this time — that you felt you were helping your 
father and mother?’’ 

“Yes,” said Miss Verney, “I think so— I hope so. 
Things have been better. But I was glad to come away 
from home for a little. Poor mamma was rather upset 
lately when Sir Francis Ayrton died, and people began 
talking of the splendid fortune his son had come into, and 
how handsome the new Lady Ayrton is, and all that kind 
of talk.” ^ 

Horrible people,” said Modeste. “ You don’t mean 
she — your mother — wishes you had married him?” 

‘‘I don’t know, really,” said Aveline. “ / don’t, and 
that is of more consequence. No; twenty times over bet- 
ter be an old maid than marry a man like that. But he 
hasn’t turned out so badly since his marriage; his wife 
keeps him in very good order, they say. I am very glad 
of it, for poor Lady Ayrton’s sake. ” 

‘‘ He would have killed said Mme. de Bois-Hu- 

bert. “ You could not have managed him.” 

“ No,” said Aveline, “ I don’t think I could. I have 
not much strength of character, Modeste. I fear I have 
given several people reason to despise me; that is the 
sorest feeling I ever have,” she added, with a look in her 
eyes that her friend could not bear to see. 

‘‘ Aveline, you are never to say that. It is not so. No 
one who knows you could dream of despising you. You are 
morbid on that point,” said Modeste, earnestly. 

‘‘Well, we won’t discuss it,” said Aveline, lightly. 
“ You — all of you — are too good to me. No one ever 
cheers me as you do, and I owe you more than I can tell.” 

They had wandered down among the trees by now, and 
had seated themselves on one of the benches. The sweet, 
soft air came fluttering gently through the branches; the 
indescribable pathos of the autumn was already beginning 
to be perceptible. 

“I suppose,” said Miss Verney, glancing upward at the 


1G2 MAKRYIi^G AKD GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

old house, “ this place has changed very little for — how 
long? A century or two at least. 

“ It was partly destroyed in the Revolution/^ said Mo- 
deste; but it was restored exactly as it had been. So I 
suppose it looks the same. But strange scenes must have 
passed here, nevertheless.^^ 

“ And old people have died, and young ones grown into 
their places; happy brides like you, Modeste, have come 
here, and little babies have been born, and men and women 
have been joyful and sorrowful; and the birds go on sing- 
ing, and the wind whispers through the trees just the same 
— just the same. Isn^t everything strange in this world?^^ 
said Aveline, dreamily. 

Modeste smiled indulgently. Her friend’s fancies made 
her smile a little sometimes. 

“ I don’t know,” she said. Things are as they were 
meant to be, I suppose. The world is a very nice place, I 
think. Only I do feel sometimes almost ashamed to be so 
happy, for I don’t deserve it, and so many others better 
than I are not so. ” 

‘‘ Dear little Modeste,” said Aveline, “ you do deserve 
prosperity, for it never makes you selfish.” 

At that moment a step was heard coming along the 
gravel. It was Modeste ’s husband. 

“ What are you two young ladies so busy talking about?” 
he said. Have you not yet completed all the confidences 
accumulated since you were last together?” 

His tone was light and rallying. But his wife knew him 
so well that she detected traces of something unusual, 
something to be told, beneath his trifling words. She 
glanced up inquiringly, but so that Aveline could not per- 
ceive the question in her eyes. M. de Bois-Hubert nodded 
his head slightly. 

‘‘ Yes — another letter,”" he whispered, so low that but 
for the motion of his lips Mbdeste could scarcely have 
understood the words. 


MARKYIl^G AND GIVING IN JilARRIAGE. 163 

‘‘ The letters have just come — none for you, mademoi- 
selle/' he said, addressing Aveline. ‘‘ But, Madame de 
Boncceur is quite in a flutter. An old friend is to arrive 
here to-day, on his way from London to somewhere or 
other — Madrid, I think. A compatriot of yours, made- 
moiselle?" 

“ An Englishman!" exclaimed Aveline — the word Mad- 
rid had already caught her attention. 

“ Exactly. And by the bye, an old acquaintance of 
yours, too. Monsieur Hereward. You knew him, of course, 
when your family was in Paris?" 

‘‘Yes," said Aveline, calmly, but very gravely. “If 
only I had known it before, even yesterday, " she said to 
herself, “ I would have managed to go. But as it is, I 
must stay and bear it. It would be undignified to do 
otherwise. But it is very hard. I had so hoped never to 
see him again. Oh, I do trust they suspect nothing." 

“Monsieur Hereward," said Modeste. “Ah, tonne 
mam an will be very pleased and quite excited. He has 
always promised to pay us a visit some day, en passant, but 
till now he has never been able to do so, though he dined 
with us last winter, in Paris one day." 

“ I did not know you had seen him since — since that time 
ill Paris," said Aveline. 

She was very pale by this time; her lips even were 
white. But she was unconscious of this, and the young 
husband and wife were far too wise to seem to notice it. 

“ Oh, yes," said Modeste, lightl}’, “ we have never lost 
sight of him. He is a very steady friend. He was always 
so pleased to hear of you from us. Oh, dear me, it is get- 
ting chilly. Let us go in, Aveline. I do hope dejeilner is 
nearly ready." 

Aveline rose, and Modeste drew her friend's arm within 
her own. 

“ Does — will not Mr. Hereward be surprised to see me 
here?" said Avelinet 


164 : 


MAKEYIN’G AND GIVING IN MAREIAGE. 


“ Oh, no; lonne maman has very likely told him you 
were here. She writes to him often. \ ou must arrange 
a shooting-party for him, Maurice,^’ she went on, “ if he 
stays to-morrow. 

Mme. de Boncoeur met them on the 'perron. She was 
in high spirits, but addressed herself chiefly to her grand- 
daughter. 

‘‘ Modeste,^^ she said, “ there are some letters I want 
you to help me write before the postman calls. I don^t 
want to be busy when Monsieur Hereward arrives. Ave- 
line, my dear, you will excuse us for an hour or twor^^ 

“ Of course, dear madame,^^ said Aveline, only too glad 
to be alone. “ I am always happy in the garden. And 
to-day is so lovely. 

She quickly made a little plan in her head of how she 
would stay out till late, and manage to avoid meeting the 
expected guest till they were all together assembled in the 
drawing-room before dinner. 

‘‘ It will not be so difficult after the first meeting, she 
thought. 

; And, dejeuner over, Aveline strolled off further than the 
garden. She made her way into the woods, penetrating 
as far as she dared without risk of losing her way. 

“ I should not like a hue and cry after me. That 
would be anything but desirable, she said to herself with 
a smile. 

The woods were very charming this afternoon. Aveline 
found a pleasant seat on some felled trees, and there she 
established herself nominally to read, in reality to think. 
But in spite of herself her thoughts were less consequent 
than usual. The prospect of seeing Nigel again had 
brought with it a certain excitement, notwithstanding the 
painful shrinking with which she anticipated it. She was 
so young still, and life might have been so fair — so very fair 
for her! 

“ But I had begun to think of it as all in the far past/" 


MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 165 

she thought. “ It is hard to have the old pain forced upon 
me — the dreadful feeling of mortification above all. 

A little bird fluttered down from a branch hard by. It 
was so tame, for these woods were seldom visited, that it 
hopped up fearlessly close to Aveline, and seemed to glance 
at her sympathiziugly with its bright, sparkling eyes. All 
animals loved the girl, she was so gentle and quiet. She 
smiled at the little cieature, and watched it with interest. 

“ Hush!^^ she whispered, involuntarily, as a step, 
crunching the already fallen leaves, sounded near, 
‘‘hush I They will frighten the poor little bird,” she 
added to herself, under her breath, and she glanced up, 
expecting to see some woodman or peasant-boy trudging 
homeward in his sabots. 

But a sudden cry escaped her; she started up, and stood 
as if turned to stone when the intruder met her view. It 
was Nigel Hereward! 

“Mr. Hereward!” she exclaimed. 

“ Oh, Miss Verney,” he said, “ I have had such a hunt 
to find you. They told me you were sure to be somewhere 
in the grounds near the house — that you never went fur- 
ther. He paused, seemingly quite out of breath. 

“ And they have been uneasy about me,” she said. “ I 
am so sorry. It was thoughtless of me. I will go back at 
once,” and she was hastening off, when Mr. Hereward ar- 
rested her by his words. 

“ Miss Yerney,” he said, rather ruefully, “ I wish you 
would give your pity to those who deserve it. Mesdames, 
our amiable clidtelaines, are not in the least uneasy about 
you. But I — am very much out of breath. Will you not 
allow me five minutes" grace to recover myself?"" and he 
seemed as if he would seat himself on the tree she had just 
quitted, and looked up at her half anxiousl}^ half comically. 

“Five hours, if you like,"" said Aveline, with a slight 
and rather forced laugh, “ only I must go in. It is later 
than I thought/" 


166 


MAKKYING AKD GIVIN'G I^T MARRIAGE. 


‘‘ What a story said the young man to himself. “ She 
wants to escape from a tete-a-Ute, that is the truth. What 
if I am wrong after all? What if that child was wrong 

And the rueful predominated over the comical as he rose 
slowly again. 

“ I can not let you go home alone, seeing that I came 
on purpose to find you/^ he said, seriously. 

Aveline flushed crimson. 

“ I am so sorry. I never thought of it,^^ she said, pen- 
itently. I have never even thanked you for coming to 
fetch me. Just as you arrived! But I do think Madame 
de Boncoeur or Modeste might have sent one of the serv- 
ants. 

“ Yes,^^ said Nigel, curtly, “ I think so too, if they had 
sent any one. But they did not. . I came of my own ac- 
cord. And you have not only not thanked me, you have 
not even shaken hands with me. And it is sixteen months 
and a fortnight, and as nearly as possible twenty-two 
hours since we met. The last time I saw you was one 
afternoon the April before last, at the Ayrtons^ hotel, when 
I lold you I was going away.^^ 

He looked at her as he spoke. He was leaning against a 
tree. 

“ WonT you sit down again for two minutes?^’ he said. 
“You might do as much as that for me, surely. 

Aveline sat down. She was very pale now. 

“ Aveline, he began, speaking quietly, with the quiet 
that comes of extreme self-restraint, “ you are too good to 
play with me or to fence with me. If I spoke for an hour 
it would be no use, I know, if — if you feel it canH be. 
But I have come here on purpose — if you reject me I shall 
go away this afternoon. Ho you think — do you think you 
can care for me enough to marry me, dear?^^ 

Aveline raised her face. It was bathed in tears. 

“ Are you in earnest? Is it not out of pity?’^ she SRid, 
“ I thought you despised me, 


MARRYING AKD GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 


167 


Who told you so?’^ he said, almost fiercely. 

“ Mamma/ ^ replied Aveline, impulsively. “ She said I 
had shown you I had cared for you, and that you pifcied 
me, and thought me — oh, I can^t say it clearly, but you 
can understand. She said I was a fool, and that you had 
seen too many girls to think seriously of things like that. 
She said I should have known you were not thinking of 
marrying, and — 

‘‘ Then you did care for me?^^ he interrupted, forget- 
ting all the rest. “And do you still? Can you forgive 
me if I made you suffer? I did not mean it. I thought I 
could bear it myself , and that you would not care. I 
thought your mother would never have thrown us together 
so much, had she not been sure you were in no danger of 
caring. 

“ And what has made you think otherwise now?’^ she 
said, smiling a little, a very little, through her tears. 

He smiled too. 

“ Never mind that just now, '^ he said. He was kneel- 
ing beside her now, so that he could see the sweet blue eyes 
which no longer evaded his gaze. “ Say it, dear, that you 
care for me. I don’t mind if it is not so much as I care 
for you. It could not be.” 

“ I don’t need to say it,” she whispered. “ And that 
isn’t true; it is as much. It must be, for I could not care 
for you more than I do, Nigel.” 

Tha soft autumn breezes fiuttered and murmured 
through the trees; a faint rustling among the dry leaves 
made Aveline look up. The little bird was there again. 
She touched Nigel gently. 

“ He has come to wish us good luck,” she said, softly. 

And in a little while Nigel explained it all to her. 

“Your mother was right so far,” he said. “I could 
not dream of marrying* I was too poor. But beyond 
that, how dared — No, she is your mother, and we are 
going to be so happy we can forgive it all. _ It is only 


168 


MAERTING AND GIVING IN MAKRIAGE. 


within the last week or two that things have changed. I 
have been to England to see all about it. Sir Francis Ayr- 
ton has left me a legacy, which insures comfort if not lux- 
ury to us.^^ 

“ Oh,^^ said Aveline^ clasping her hands, “ how good of 
him! Do you think it was partly — then she stopped and 
grew crimson again. 

“ Yes, dear. I think it was partly, greatly, for you, 
though he worded it so as to seem natural. He was good 
enough to say I had been of service to him. He did not 
think he would have lived so long — he had been lingering 
on month after month, not realizing how time was going. 
Had he done so he would have told me, though I don^t 
know that I could have agreed to it, while he lived, he 
, added. “ I got to know him very well that time at Bou- 
logne,^ ^ he went on. 

“ I heard of that,^^ said Aveline. But — you knew 
about what I did— what I consented to after I thought that 
you despised me — 

Nigel placed his finger on her lips. “ Hush! donH say 
such things, he said. But she persisted. Yes, I must. 
It was that made me do it. I thought I was no good, no 
use in the world. I hated myself. I thought I would try 
to make them all happier.^' 

“ It was not your fault,^^ he said, hastily. 

“ Yes, it was,^^ she repeated, sturdily. “ I know it was 
wrong; my best friends, Modeste and Leo, they helped to 
show it to me. 

‘‘ And you undid it — bravely. I know that,^^ he said; 
“ Sir Francis told me.^^ 

“ And was it byTiim that you began to think — that I — 
that I did care?” 

“Partly — not altogether. I will tell you. She does 
not know herself how much she told me. It was Leo, good 
little Leo. I called at your house last week, just to find 
out where you were. Your mother was out. I saw Leo.^^ 


MARRYII^G AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 169 

Aveline^s eyes sparkled. 

“ Nigel/^ she said, “ that is one thing we maybe able to 
do — to take care of Leo, and prevent her suffering as I 
have done. 

‘‘ My darling he exclaimed. 

“ And what will mamma say?^^ added Aveline, after- 
ward, when they were making their way home through the 
woods. 

“ She will grin and bear it, I suppose,'^ said Nigel, 
calmly. 

Better, perhaps, to have me married to a — I suppose 
you will never be a rich man? — than not at all, she will 
think, said Aveline, laughing. 

What every one else said — Leonora, Mr. Verney, Mme. 
de Boncoeur and “ her children,^ ^ as she called her little 
family group in the kindly French way — there will be no 
difficulty in imagining. 


THE END. 


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169 Haunted Man, The. By Charles 

Dickens 10 

170 A Great Treason. By Blary 

Hoppus. First half 20 


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THE SEASIDE LTBRAKY— Pocket Edition. 


170 A Great Treason. By Mary 

Hoppus. Sei^ond half 

171 Fortune’s Wheel. By “ The 

Duchess ”. . . .i 

172 “ Golden Girls.” By Alan Muir 

173 Foreigners, The. By Eleanor C. 

Price 

174 Under a Ban. By Mrs. Lodge. 

175 Love’s Random Shot. By Wilkie 

Collins 

176 An April Day. By Philippa Prit- 

tie Jephson 

177 Salem Chapei. By Mrs. 01ii)bant 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 

of a Life in tiie Highlands. 
By Queen Victoria 

179 Little Make-Believe. By B. L. 

Farjeon 

180 Round the Galley Fire. By W”. 

Clark Russell 

181 New Abelard, The. By Robert 

Btichanau 

182 Millionaire, The 

183 Old Contrairy, and Other Sto- 

ries. By Florence Marryat.. 

184 Thirlby Hall. By W. E. Norris 

185 Dita. By Lady Margaret Ma- 

jendie 

186 Canon’s Ward, The. By James 

Payn 

187 Midnight Sun, The. By Fredrika 

Bremer 

188 Idonea. By Anne Beale 

189 Valerie’s Fate. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander 

190 Romance of a Black Veil. By 

Charlotte 1\I. Braeme, author 
ot “Dora Thorne” 

191 Harry Lorrequer. By Charles 

Lever 

192 At the World’s Mercy. By F. 

Warden 

193 Rosary Folk, The. By G. Man- 

ville Fenn 

194 “So Near, and Yet So Far!” 

By Alison 

195 “ Way of the World, The.” By 

David Christie Murray 

196 Hidden Perils. JIary Cecil Hay 

197 For Her Dear Sake. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 

198 Husband’s Story, A 

199 Fisher Village, The. By Anne 

200 An Old Man’s Love. By Anthony 

Trollope 

201 Monastery, The. By Sir Walter 

Scott 

202 Abbot, The. Sequel to “ The 

Monastery.” By Sir Walter 

Scott 

208 John Bull and His Island. By 
MaxO’Rell 

204 Vixen. By Miss M. E. Braddon 

205 Minister’s Wife, The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 

306 Picture, The, and Jack of All 
Trades. By Charles Reade. .. 


207 Pretty Miss Neville. By B. M. 

Croker 2fl 

208 Ghost of Charlotte Cray, The, 

and Other Storie*. By Flor- 


w 11^ ^ X > 1, cA 1 t •••••«•< • I 

209 John Holdswortli, Chief Mate. 

By W. Clark Russell 10 

210 Readiana: Comments on Cur- 

rent Events. By Chas. Reade 10 

211 Octoroon, The. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 10 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish 

Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 
First half 20 

212 Charles O’Malle.y, the Irish 

Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 
Second half 20 

213 Terrible Temptation, A. By 

Chas. Reade 20 

214 Put Yourself in His Place. By 

Charles Reade '. 20 

215 Not Like Other Girls. By Rosa 

Nouchette Carey. . 20 

216 Foul Play. By Charles Reade . 20 

217 Man She Cared For, The. By 

F. W. Robinson 20 

218 Agnes Sorel. By G. P. R. James 20 

219 Lady Clare ; or. The Master of 

the Forges. From the French 
of Georges Ohnet 10 

220 Which Loved Him Best? By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

221 Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye. Bj' Helen 

B. Mathers 20 

222 Sun-Maid, The. By Miss Grant 20 

223 Sailor’s Sweetheart, A. By W. 

Clark Russell 20 

224 Arundel Motto, The. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

225 Giant’s Robe, The. By F. Anstey 20 

226 Friendship. By “Ouida” 20 

227 Nancy. By Rhoda Broughton . 20 

228 Princess Napraxine. “Ouida” 20 

229 Maid, AVife, or Widow? By 

Airs. Alexander 10 

230 Dorothy Forster. By AValter 

Besant 20 

231 Griffith Gaunt; or. Jealousy. 

By Charles Reade 20 

232 Love and Money; or, A Peril- 

ous Secret. By Chas. Reade. 10 

233 “ I Say No;” or. The Love-Let- 

ter Answered. By Wilkie Col- 
lins 20 

234 Barbara; or. Splendid Alisery. 

By Aliss M. E. Braddon 20 

235 “ It is Never Too Late to Alend.” 

By Charles Reade 20 

236 AVhich Shall It Be? By Mrs. 

Alexander 20 

237 Rei,)ented at Leisure. By Char- 

lotte AI. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

238 Pascarel. By “Ouida” 20 

239 Signa. By “Ouida” 20 

240 Called Back. By Hugh Conway 10 

241 Baby’s Grandmother, The. By 

L. B. Walford 10 


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242 Two Orphans, The. By D’En- 

nery .. 10 

243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” By 

Charles Lever. First half... 20 

243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” By 

Charles Lever. Second half. 20 

244 Great Mistake, A. By the author 

of “Cherry” 20 

245 Miss Tommy. By Miss Mulock 10 

246 Fatal Dower, A. By the Author 

of “ His Wedded Wife ” .... 20 

247 Armourer’s Prentices, The. By 

Charlotte M. Yonge 10 

248 House on the Marsh, The. By 


249 “ Prince Charlie’s Daughter.” 

By Charlotte M. Braeme, au- 
thor of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

250 Sunshine and Roses ; or, Diana’s 

Discipline. By Charlotte M. 
Braeine, author of “Dora 
Thorne” 10 

251 Daughter of the Stars, The, and 

Other Tales. By Hugh Con- 
way. author of “ Called 
Back ” 10 

252 Sinless Secret, A. By “ Rita ” 10 

253 Amazon, The. By Carl Vosmaer 10 

254 Wife’s Secret, The, and Fair but 

False. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”.. . 10 

255 Mvstery, The. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood. .20 

256 Mr. Smith : A Part of His Life. 

By L. B. Walford 20 

257 Beyond Recall, By Adeline Ser- 

geant 10 


258 Cousins. By L. B. Walford 20 

259 Bride of Monte-Cristo, The. A 

Sequel to “ The Count of 
Monte-Cristo.” By Alexan- 
der Dumas 10 

260 Proper Pride. By B. M. Croker 10 

261 Fair Maid, A. By F. W. Robin- 

son 20 

262 Count of Monte-Cristo, The. 

By Alexander Dumas. Part I 20 

262 Count of Monte-Cristo. The. 

By Alexander Dumas. Part II 20 

263 An Ishmaelite. By Miss M. E. 

Braddan 20 

264 Pi6douche, a French Detective. 

By ForLm6 Du Boisgobey... 10 

265 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love 

Affairs and Other Advent- 
ures. By William Black 20 

266 Water-Babies, The. A Fairy 

Tale for a Land-Baby. By the 
Rev. Charles Kingsley. 10 

267 Laurel Vane; or, The Girls’ 

Conspiracy. By Mrs. Alex. 
McVeigh Miller 20 

268 Lady Gay’s Pride; or. The Mi- 

ser’s Treasure. By Mrs. Alex- 
McVeigh Miller 20 

269 Lancaster s Choice. By Mrg. 

Alex. McVeigh Miller 20 

270 Wandering Jew, The. By Eu- 

gene Sue. Part 1 20 


Wandering Jew, The, By Eu- 
gene Sue. Part II 20 

Mysteries of Paris, The. By Eu- 
gene Sue. Parti... 20 

Mysteries of Paris, The. By Eu- 
gene Sue. Part II 20 

Little Savage, The. By Captain 

Marryat 10 

Love and Mirage ; or. The Wait- 
ing on an Island. By M. 

Betham-Ed wards 10 

Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 
Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 

and Letters 10 

Three Brides, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Yonge 10 

Under the Lilies and Roses. 

By Florence Marryat (Mrs, 

Francis Lean) 10 

Surgeon's Daughters, The, by 
Mrs. Henry Wood. A Man of 


His Word, by W. E. Norris... 10 

For Life and Love. By Alison. 10 
Little Goldie : A Story of Wom- 
an’s Love. By Mrs. Sumner 


Hayden 20 

Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So- 
ciety. By Mrs. Forrester — 10 
Squire’s Legacy, The. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

Doual Grant. By George Mac- 
Donald 20 

Sin of a Lifetime, The. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 ■ 

Doris. By “ The Duchess ” 10 

Gambler’s Wife, The 20 

Deldee; or. The Iron Hand. By 

F. Warden 20 

At War With Herself. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 10 

At War With Herself. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeine. (Large type 

edition) 20 

From Gloom to Sunlight; or 
From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte DI. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

From Gloom to Sunlight; or, 
From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme. (Large 

type edition) 20 

John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
True Light. By a “Brutal 

Saxon” 10 

Nora’s Love Test. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

Love’s Warfare. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 10 

Golden Heart, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 10 

Shadow of a Sin, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 10 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


948 Shadow of a Sin, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme. (Large type 
edition) 

294 Hilda; or, The False Vow. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 

928 Hilda; or, The h'alse Vow. By 
Chai lotte M. Braeme. (Large 
type edition) 

295 Woman’s War, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 

952 Woman’s War, A. By Charlotte 

Bl. Braeme. (Large type edi- 
tion) 

296 Rose in Thorns, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 

297 Hilary’s Folly; or. Her Mar- 

riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne” 

953 Hilary’s Folly; or. Her Mar- 

riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme. (Large type edition) 

298 Mitchelhurst Place. By Marga- 

ret Veley 

299 Fatal Lilies, The. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 

300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

Love. By Cliarlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 

301 Dark Days. By Hugh Conway 

302 Blatehford Bequest, The. By 

Hugh Conway, author of 
“Called Back” 

303 Ingledew House. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 

304 In Cupid’s Net. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 

305 Dead Heart, A. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 

306 Golden Dawn, A. By Charlotte 

M. Bi’aeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 

307 Two Kisses. By Charlotte M. 

Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 

808 Beyond Pardon 

309 Pathfinder, The. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 

310 Prairie, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 

311 Two Years Before the Mast. 

By R. H. Dana, Jr 

312 Week in Killarney, A. By “ The 

Duchess 

313 Lover’s Creed, The. By Mrs. 

Cashel-Hoey 

314 Peril. By Jessie Fothergill . . . 

315 Mistletoe Bough, The. Edited 

by Miss M. E. Braddon 


316 Sworn to Silence; or. Aline 

Rodney’s Secret. By Mrs. 
Alex. McVeigh Miller 20 

317 By Mead and Stream. By Chas. 

Gibbon 20 

318 Pioneers, The ; or. The Sources 

of the Susquehanna. By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

319 Face to Face : A Fact in Seven 

Fables. By R. E. Francillon. 10 

320 Bit of Human Nature, A. By 

David Christie Murray 10 


321 Prodigals, The: And Their In- 


heritance. By Mrs. Oliphant. 10 

322 Woman’s Love-Story, A. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

323 Willful Maid, A. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” .*.. 20 

324 In Luck at Last. By Walter 

Besant 10 

325 Portent, The. By (jeorge Mac- 

donald 10 

326 Phantastes. A Faerie Romance 

for Men and Women. By 
George Macdonald 10 

327 Raymond’s Atonement. (From 

the German of E. Werner.) 

By Christina Tyrrell 20 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

(Translated from the French 
of Fortune Du Boisgobei’.) 
First half 20 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

(Translated from the French 
of Fortune Du Boisgobey.) 
Second half 20 

329 Polish Jew, The. (Translated 

from the French by Caroline 
A. Merighi.) By Ei’ckmann- 
Chatrian 10 

330 May Blossom ; or. Between Two 

Loves. By Margaret Lee 20 

331 Gerald. By Eleanor (3. Price . . ^ 

332 Judith Wynne. By author of 

“ Lady Lovelace ’’ 20 

333 Frank Fairlegh; or. Scenes 

From the Life of a Private 
Pupil. By Frank E. Smedley 20 

334 Marriage of Convenience, A. 

By Harriett Jay 10 

335 Whi-te Witch, The. A Novel. . . 20 

336 Philistia. By Cecil Power 20 

337 Memoirs and Resolutions of 

Adam Graeme of Mossgray, 
including some Chronicles of 
the Borough of Fendie. By 
Mrs. Oliphant 20 

338 Family Difficulty, The. By Sa- 

rah Doudney 10 

339 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid. 

By Mrs. Alexander 10 

340 Under Which King? By Comp- 

ton Reade 20 

341 Madolin Rivers; or. The Little 

Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

By Laura dean Libbey 20 

342 Baby, The. By “ The Duchess ” 10 


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343 Talk of the Town, The. By 

James Payn 20 

844 “ Wearing: of the Green, The.” 

By Basil 20 

345 Madam. By Mrs. Oliphant ^ 

346 Tumbledown Farm. By Alan 

Muir 10 

347 As Avon Flows. By Henry Scott 

Vince 20 

348 From Post to Finish. A Racing: 

Romance. By Hawley Smart 20 

349 Two Admirals, The. A Tale of 

the Sea. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 20 

350 Diana of the Crosswaj^s. By 

George Meredith 10 

351 House on the Moor, The. By 

Mrs. Oliphant 20 

352 At Any Cost. By Edw. Garrett 10 

*53 Black Dwarf, The. By Sir 

Walter Scott 20 


354 Lottery of Life, The. A Story 
of New York Twenty Years 


Ago. By John Brougham... 20 
.355 That Terrible Man. By W. E. 

Norris 10 

356 Good Hater, A. By Frederick 

Boyle 20 

357 John. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

358 Within the Clasp. By J. Ber- 

wick Harwood 20 

359 Water-Witch, The. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

360 Ropes of Sand. B 3 ' R. E. Francil- 

lon 20 

361 Red Rover, The. A Tale of the 

Sea. By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

362 Bride of Lammermoor, The. 

By Sir Walter Scott 20 

363 Surgeon’s Daughter, The. By 

Sir Walter Scott 10 

364 Castle Dangerous. By Sir Wal- 

ter Scott 10 

365 George Christy; or, The Fort- 

unes of a Minstrel. By Tony 
Pastor 20 

366 Jllysterious Hunter, The; or. 

The Man of Deatln By Capt, 


.367 Tie and Trick. By Hawley Smart 20 

368 Southern Star, The : or. The Dia- 

mond Land. By Jules Verne 20 

369 Miss Bretherton. By Mrs. Hum- 

phry Ward 10 

370 Lucy Crofton. By JIrs. Oliphant 10 

371 Margaret Maitland. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

372 Phyllis’ Probation. By the au- 

thor of “ His Wedded Wife ”. 10 

373 Wing-and-Wing. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

374 Dead Man’s Secret, The ; or, The 

Adventures of a Medical Stu- 
dent. By Dr. Jupiter Paeon . . 20 
875 Ride to Khiva, A. By Captain 
Fred Burnaby, of the Royal 


Horse Guards 20 


376 Crime of Christmas Day, The. 

By the author of “ My Ducats 
and My Daughter ” 10 

377 Magdalen Hepburn : A Story of 

the Scottish Reformation. By 
Mrs. Oliphant 20 

378 Homeward Bound; or. The 

Chase, By J. F. Cooper.... 20 
.379 Home as Found. (Sequel to 
“ Homeward Bound.”) ByJ. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

380 Wyandotte; or. The Hutted 

Knoll. ByJ. Fenimore Cooper 20 
.381 Red Cardinal, The. By Frances 
Elliot 10 

382 Three Sisters; or. Sketches of 

a Highly Original Family. 

By Elsa D’Esterre-Keeling... 10 

383 Introduced to Society. By Ham- 

ilton Aid 6 10 

384 On Horseback Through Asia 

Minor. By Captain Fred Bur- 
naby. . . 20 

385 Headsman, The; or. The Ab- 

baye des Vignerons. By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

386 Led Astray ; or, ” La Petite 

Comtesse.” Octave Feuillet. 10 

387 Secret of the Cliffs, The. By 

Charlotte French 20 

388 Addie’s Husband ; or. Through 

Clouds to Sunshine. By the 
author of ” Love or Lands?”. 10 

389 Ichabod. A Portrait. By Bertha 

Thomas 10 

390 Mildred Trevanion. By ” The 

Duchess ” 10 

391 Heart of Mid-Lothian, The. By 

Sir Walter Scott 20 

392 Peveril of the Peak. By Sir 

Walter Scott 20 

393 Pirate, The. By Sir Walter Scott 20 

394 Bravo, The, By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

395 Archipelago on Fire, The. By 

Jules Verne 10 

396 Robert Ord’s Atonement. By 

Rosa Nouchette Carey 20 

397 Lionel Lincoln ; or, The Leaguer 

of Boston. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 20 

398 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan. 

By Robert Buchanan 10 

399 Miss Brown. By Vernon Lee.. 20 

400 Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish, The. 

By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

401 Waverley, By Sir Walter Scott 20 

402 Lilliesleaf ; or, Passages in the 

Life of Mrs. Margaret Mait- 
land of Sunnyside. By Mrs. 
Oliphant 20 

403 An English Squire. By C. R. 

Coleridge 20 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 

Stories. By “ The Duchess ” 10 

405 My Friends and I, Edited by 

Julian Sturgis 10 

406 Merchant’s Clerk, The, By Sam- 

uel Warren 10 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRARY — Pocket Edition. 


407 T3’lney Hall. Bj' Thomas Hood 20 


408 Lester’s Secret. Bj’ Mary Cecil 

Hay 20 

409 Roy’s Wife. By G. J. Whyte- 

IvUlville 20 

410 Old Lady Mary. By IMrs. Oli- 

pliant 10 

411 Bitter Atonement, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

412 Some One Else. By B. M. Croker 20 

413 Afloat and Ashore. By J. Fen- 

imore Cooper 20 

414 Miles Wallingford. (Sequel to 

“ Afloat and Ashore.”) By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

415 Ways of the Hour, The. By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

416 Jack Tier ; or. The Florida Reef. 

By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

417 Fair Maid of Perth, The; or, 

St. Valentine’s Da5^ By Sir 
Walter Scott ; 20 

418 St. Rouan’s Well. By Sir Walter 

Scott 20 

419 Chajnbearer, The; or. The Lit- 

tlepage Manuscripts. By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

420 Satanstoe; or, The Littlepage 

Manuscripts. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 20 

421 Redskins, The; or, Indian and 

Injin. Bein^ tlie conclusion 
of the Littlepaf^e Manuscripts. 

By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

422 Precaiition. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

423 Sea Lions, The; or. The Lost 

Sealers. By J. F. Cooper... 20 

424 Mercedes of Castile; or. The 

Voyage to Cathay. Bj’ J. Fen- 
imore Cooper 20 

425 Oak-Openings, The; or. The 

Bee-Hunter. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 20 

426 Venus’s Doves. By Ida Ash- 

worth Taylor 20 

427 Remarkable History of Sir 

Thomas Upmore, Bart., M.P., 
The. Formerly known as 
“Tommy Upmore.” By R. 

D. Blackmore 20 

4C8 Z6ro: A Story of Monte-Carlo. 

By Mrs. Campbell-Praed 10 


429 Boulderstone : or. New Men and 

Old Populations. Bj^ W. Sime 10 

430 Bitter Reckoning, A. By the au- 

thor of “By Crooked Paths ” 10 

431 Monikins, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

432 Witch’s Head, The. By H. 

Rider Haggard 20 

433 My Sister Kate. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 10 

484 Wyllard’s Weird. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

435 Klytia : A Story of Heidelberg 
Castle. By George Taylor... 20 


Stella. By Fann\" Lewald 20 

Life and Adventures of Martin 
(’liuzzlewit. By Charles Dick- 
ens. First half 20 

Life and Adventures of Martin 
Chuzzlewit. B3' Charles Dick- 
ens. Second half 20 

Found Out. By Helen B. 

Mathers 10 

Great Expectations. By Charles 

Dickens.. . . 20 

Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings. By 

Charles Dickens 10 

Sea Change, A. By Flora L. 

Shaw 20 

Ranthorpe. By George Henry 

Lewes 20 

Bachelor of the Albany, The. .. 10 
Heart of Jane Warner, The. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

Shadow of a Crime, The. By 

Hall Caine 20 

Dame Durden. By “Rita”... 20 
American Notes. By Charles 

Dickens 20 

Pictures From Italy, and The 
Mudfog Papers, &c. By Chas. 

Dickens 20 

Peeress and Player. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 

Godfrey Helstoue. By (Jeorgi- 

ana M. Craik 20 

Market Harborough, and Inside 
the Bar. G. J. Whyte-Melville 20 
In the AVest Countrie. By May 

Crommelin 20 

Lottery Ticket, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey 20 

Mystery of Edwin Drood, The. 

By Ciias. Dickens 20 

Lazarus in London. By F. W. 

Robinson 20 

Sketches by Boz. Illustrative 
of Every-day Life and Evei^- 
day People. By Charles Dick- 
ens 20 

Russians at the Gates of Herat, 
The. By Charles Marvin. ... 10 
Week ofPPassiou, A; or. The 
Dilemma of Mr. George Bar- 
ton the Younger. By Edward 

Jenkins 20 

AVoman's Temptation, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme. (Large 

tj'pe edition) 20 

Woman’s Temptation, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Tliorne ” 10 

Under a Shadow. By Char-’ 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

His Wedded AVife. By author 

of “ A Fatal Dower ” 20 

Alice’s Adventures in AA’onder- 
land. By Lewis Carroll. With 
forty - two illustrations by 

John Tenniel 20 

Redgauntlet. By Sir Walter 
Scott 2C 


436 

437 

437 

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THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


9 


464 Newcomes, The. By William 
Makepeace Thackeray. Part 


1 20 

464 Newcomes, The. B 5 '’ William 

Blakepeace Thackera}-. Fart 

465 Earl’s Atonement, The. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

466 Between Two Loves. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

467 Strugf'le for a Ring', A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

468 Fortunes, Good and Bad, of a 

Sewing-Girl, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Stanley 10 

469 Lady Darner's Secret: or, A 

Guiding Star. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

470 Evelyn’s Folly. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

471 Thrown on the World. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

472 Wise Women of Inverness, 

The. By Wm. Black 10 

473 Lost Son, A. By .Mary Linskill. 10 

474 Serapis. By George Ebers 20 

475 Prima Donna’s Husband, The. 20 

By F. Du Boisgobey 

476 Between Two Sins; or. Married 

in Haste. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 10 

477 Affinities. A Romance of To- 


day. By Mrs. Campbell -Praed 10 
478 Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daugh- 


ter. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 
Part 1 20 

478 Diavola: or. Nobody’s Daugh- 

ter. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 
Part II 20 

479 Louisa. By Katharine S. Mac- 

quoid 20 

480 Married in Haste. Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

481 House That Jack Built, The. 

By Alison 10 


482 Vagrant Wife, A. By F. Warden 20 

483 Betwixt My Love and Me. By 

the author of “A Golden Bar ” 10 

484 Although He Was a Lord, and 


Other Tales. Mrs. Forrester. 10 

485 Tinted Vapours. By J. Maclaren 

Col)ban 10 

486 Dick’s Sweetheart. By “The 

Duchess ” 20 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by 

Miss M. E, Braddon 20 

488 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

489 Rupert Godwin. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

490 Second Life, A. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander ^ 


491 Society in London. By a For- 


eign Resident 10 

492 jMignon ; or. Booties’ Baby. By 

J. S. "SVinter. Illustrated 10 

493 Colonel Enderby’s Wife. By 

Lucas Malet. . .’ 20 

494 Maiden All Forlorn, A, and Bar- 

bara. By “ The Duchess ”... 10 

495 Mount Royal. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

496 Only a Woman. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

497 Lady’s Mile, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

498 Only a Clod. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

499 Cloven Foot, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

500 Adrian Vidal. By W. E. Norris 20 

501 Mr. Butler's Ward. By F. Mabel 

Robinson 20 

502 Carriston’s Gift. By Hugh 

Conway, author of “ Called 
Back” 10 


503 Tinted Venus, The. By F. Anstey 10 

504 Curly: Au Actor’s Story. By 

John Coleman. Illustrated. 10 

505 Society of London, The. By 

Count Paul Vasili 10 

506 Lady Lovelace. By the author 

of “Judith Wynne” 20 

507 Chronicles of the Canongate, 

and Other Stories. By Sir 
Walter Scott 10 

508 Unholy Wish, The. By Mrs. 

Henry Wood 10 

509 Nell Haffenden. By Tighe Hop- 

kins 20 

510 Mad Love, A. By the author of 

“ Lover and Lord ” 10 

511 Strange Woidd, A. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

512 Waters of Hercules, The 20 

513 Helen Whitney’s Wedding, and 

Other Tales. By Mrs. Henry 
Wood 10 

514 Mystery of Jessy Page, The, 

and Other Tales. By Mrs. 
Henry Wood 10 

515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

516 Put Asunder; or. Lady Castle- 

maine’s Divorce. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

517 Passive Crime, A, and Other 

Stories. By “The Duchess” 10 

518 Hidden Sin, The. A Novel 20 

519 James Gordon's Wife, A Novel 20 

520 She's All the World to Me. By 

Hall Caine 10 

.521 Entangled. By E. Fairfax 
Byrrne 20 

522 Zig-Zag, the Clown; or. The 

Steel Gauntlets. By F. Du 
Boisgobey. 20 

523 Consequences of a Duel, The. 

By F. Du Boisgobey 20 


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524 Strangers and Pilgrims. By 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

C25 Paul Vargas, and Other Stories. 

By Hugh Conway, author of 
“'Called Back” 10 

526 Madame De Presnel. By E. 

Fiances Poynter 20 

527 Days of My Life. The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

528 At His Gates. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

529 Doctor's Wife, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

5:10 Pair of Blue Eyes, A. By Thom- 
as Hardy 20 


531 Prime Minister, The. By An- 
thony Trollope. First Half.. 20 

531 Prime Minister, The. By An- 

thony Trollope. Second Half 20 

532 Arden Court. Barbara Graham 20 

533 Hazel Kirke. By Marie Walsh 20 


534 Jack. By Alphonse Daudet 20 

535 Henrietta’s Wish; or, Domi- 

neering. By Charlotte M. 
Yonge 10 

536 Dissolving Views. By Mrs. An- 

drew Lang 10 

537 Piccadilly. Laurence Oliphant 10 

538 Fair Country Maid, A. By E. 

Fairfax Byrrne 20 

539 Silvermead. By Jean Middle- 

mas 20 

540 At a High Price. By E. Werner 20 

541 “ As it Fell Upon a Day,” by 

“The Duchess,” and Uncle 

Jack, by Walter Besant 10 

.542 Fenton’s Quest, By Miss M, E. 

Braddon 20 

543 Family Affair, A, By Hugh 

Conway, author of “ Called 
Back” 20 

544 Cut by the County; or. Grace 

Darnel. By Miss M. E. Brad- 
don 10 

545 Vida's Story. By author of 

“Guilty Without Crime” 10 

546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime 10 

547 Coquette’s Conquest, A. By 

Basil 20 

548 Fatal Marriage, A, and The 

Shadow in the Corner. By 
Miss M. E. Braddon 10 

549 Dudley Carleon ; or. The Broth- 

er's Secret, and George Caul- 
field’s .Journey. ByMissM. E. 

Braddon 10 

B60 Struck Down. By Hawley Smart 10 

551 Barbara Heathcote's Trial. By 

Rosa Nouchette Carey 20 

552 Hostages to Fortune. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

553 Birds of Prey. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

554 Charlotte’s Inheritance. (A Se- 

quel to “ Birds of Prey.”) By 
Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

555 Cara Roma. By Miss Grant 20 

556 Prince of Darkness, A. By F. 

Warden 20 


To the Bitter End. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

Poverty Corner. By G. Manville 

Fenn 20 

Taken at the Flood. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

Asphodel, By Miss M. E. Brad- 
don '. 20 

Just As I Am ; or, A Living Lie. 

By Miss M. E Braddon 20 

Lewis Arundel; or, 3'he Rail- 
road of Life. By Frank E. 

Smedley 20 

Two Sides of the Shield, The. 

By Charlotte M. Yonge 20 

At Bay. By Mrs. Alexander. . . 10 
No Medium. By Annie Thomas 10 
Royal Highlanders, The; or. 
The Black Watch in Egypt. 

By James Grant 20 

Dead Men's Shoes. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

Perpetual Curate, The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

Harry Muir. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 
John Marchmont’s Legacy. By 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

Paul Carew's Story. By Alice 

Corny ns Carr 10 

Healey. By Jessie Fothergill. 20 
Love’s Harvest, B. L. Farjeon 20 
Nabob, The: A Story of Paris- 


ian Life and Manners. By Al- 
phonse Daudet 20 

Finger of Fate, The. By Cap- 
tain Mayne Reid 20 

Her Martyrdom. By Charlotte 
M. Braenie, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

In Peril and Privation, By 

James Payn 10 

Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 

Verne, (Illustrated.) Parti. 10 
Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 

Verne. (Illustrated.) Part II 10 


Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 
Verne, (Illustrated.) Part III 10 
Flower of Doom, The, and 
Other Stories. By M. Betham- 

Edwards 10 

Red Route, The, By William 

Sime 20 

Betrothed, The. (I Promessi 
Sposi,) Alessandro Manzoni. 20 
Lucia, Hugh and Another. By 

Mrs. J. H. Needed 20 

Victory Deane. By Cecil Griffith 20 

Mixed Motives 10 

Drawn Game, A. By Basil 20 

“ For Percival.” By Margaret 

Veley 20 

Parson o’ Dumford, The. By 

G. Manville Fenn... 20 

Cherry. By the author of “A 

Great Mistake” 10 

Luck of the Darrells, The. By 

James Payn 20 

Courting of Mary Smith, The. 

By F. W. Robinson 20 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


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591 Queen of Hearts, The. By Wil- 


kie Collins 20 

502 Stranpre Voyage, A. By W. 

Clark Russell 20 

693 Berna Boyle. By Mrs. J. H. 
Riddell 20 

594 Doctor Jacob. By Miss Betham- 

Ed wards 20 

595 North Country Maid, A. By 

Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron 20 

696 My Ducats and My Daughter. 

By the author of “ The Crime 
of Christmas Day” 20 

697 Haco the Dreamer. By William 

Sime 10 

598 Corinna. By “Rita” 10 

599 Lancelot Ward, M.P. By George 

Temple 10 

600 Houp-La. By John Strange 

Winter. (Illustrated) 10 

601 Slings and Arrows, and other 

Stories. By Hugh Conway, 
author of “Called Back”... 10 

602 Camiola: A Girl With a Fortune. 


By Justin McCarthy 20 

603 Agnes. By Mrs. Oliphant. First 
Half 20 

603 Agnes. By Mrs. Oliphant. Sec- 

ond Half 20 

604 Innocent: A Tale of Modern 

Life. By Mrs. Oliphant. First 
Half 20 

604 Innocent: A Tale of Modern 

Life. By Mrs. Oliphant. Sec- 
ond Half 20 

605 Ombra. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

606 Mrs. Hollyer. By Georgiana M. 

Craik 20 

607 Self-Doomed. By B. L. Farjeon 10 

608 For Lilias. By Rosa Nouchette 

Carey 20 

609 Dark House, The : A Knot Un- 

raveled. By G. Manville Fenn 10 

610 Story of Dorothy Grape, The, 


and Other Tales. By Mrs. 
Henry Wood...< 10 

611 Babylon. By Cecil Power 20 

612 My Wife’s Niece. By the author 

of “ Doctor Edith Romney ”. 20 

613 Ghost’s Touch, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 10 

614 No. 99. By Arthur Griffiths... 10 

615 Mary Anerley. By R. D. Black- 

more. 20 

610 Sacred Nugget, The. By B. L. 


017 Like Dian’s Kiss. By “Rita”. 20 

618 Mistletoe Bough, The. Christ- 

mas. 1885. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

619 Joy; or, The Light of Cold- 

Home Ford. By May Crom- 
melin ..20 

620 Between the Heather and the 

Northern Sea. By M. Linskill 20 
021 Warden, The. By Anthony 

Trollope 10 

822 Harry Heathcote of Gangoil. By 

A nthony TroUope 10 


623 My Lady’s Money. By Wilkie 


Collins 10 

624 Primus in Indis. By M. J. Col- 

quhoun 10 

625 Erema; or. My Father’s Sin. 

By R. D. Blackmore 20 

620 Fair Mystery, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 2C 

627 White Heather. By Wm. Black 20 

628 Wedded Hands. By the author 

of “ My Lady’s Folly ” 20 

629 Cripps, the Carrier. By R. D. 

Blackmore *. 20 


630 Cradock Nowell. By R. D. 
Blackmore. First half 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. By R. D. 

Blackmore. Second half 20 

631 Christowell. By R. D. Blackmore 20 

632 Clara Vaughan. By R. D. Black- 

more. 20 

633 Maid of Sker, The. By R. D. 

Blackmore. 1st half 20 

633 Maid of Sker, The. By R. D. 

Blackmore. 2d half 20 

634 Unforeseen, The. By Alice 

O’Hanlon 20 

635 Murder or Manslaughter? By 

Helen B. Mathers 10 

636 Alice Lorraine. By R. D. Black- 

more. 1st half 20 

636 Alice Ijorraine. By R. D. Black- 

more. 2d half 20 

637 What’s His Offence? By author 

of “The Two Miss Flemings ” 20 

638 In Quarters with the 25th (The 

Black Horse) Dragoons. By 


J. S. Winter 10 

639 Othmar. By “ Ouida ” 20 

610 Nuttie’s Father. By Charlotte 
M. Yonge 20 

641 Rabbi’s Spell, The. By Stuart 

C. Cumberland 10 

642 Britta. By George Temple 10 

643 Sketch-book of Geoffrey Cray-' 

on, Gent, The. By Washing- 
ton Irving 20 

644 Girton Girl, A. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

645 Mrs. Smith of Longmains. By 

Rhoda Broughton 10 

646 Master of the Mine, The. By 

Robert Buchanan 20 

647 Goblin Gold. By May Crom- 

melin 10 

648 Angel of the Bells, The. By F. 

Du Boisgobey 20 

649 Cradle and Spade. By William 

Sime 20 

650 Alice : or. The Mysteries. (A Se- 

quel to “ Ernest Maltravers.”) 

By Sir E. Bulwer Lytton.... 20 

651 “ Self or Bearer.” By Walter 

Besant 10 

652 Lady With the Rubies, The. By 

E. Marlitt 20 

653 Barren Title, A. T. W. Speight 10 

654 “ Us.” An Old-fashioned Story. 

By Mrs. Moles worth 10 


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THE SEASIDE LIDDARY— Pocket Editioit. 


655 Open Door, The. By Mrs. 01 i- 

phaiit 

656 Golden Flood, The. By R. E. 

Francillon and Wm. Senior.. 

657 Christmas Angel. By B. L. Far- 

jeon 

658 Histoiy of a Week, The. By 

Mrs. L. B. Walford 

659 Waif of the “ Cynthia,” The. 

By Jules Verne 

660 Scottish Chiefs, The. By Miss 

Jane Porter. 1st half 

660 Scottish Chiefs, The. By Miss 

Jane Porter. '2d half 

661 Rainbow Gold. By David Chris- 

tie Murray 

662 Mystery of Allan Grale, The. By 

Isabella Fyvie Mayo 

663 Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover 

664 Rury O Moi e. B> Samuel Lover 

665 Dove in the Eagle's Nest, The. 

By Charlotte M. Youge 

666 My Young Alcides. By Char- 

lotte M. Yonge 

667 Golden IJon of Granpere, The. 

By Anthony Trollope 

668 Half-Way. An Anglo-French 

Romance 

669 Philosophy of Whist, The. By 

William Pole 

670 Rose and the Ring, The. By 

W. M. Thackeray. Illustrated 

671 Don Gesualdo. By“Ouida.”.. 

672 In Maremma. By ” Ouida.” 1st 

half 

672 In Maremma. By “ Ouida.” 2d 

half 

673 Story of a Sin. By Helen B. 

Mathers 

674 First Person Singular. By Da- 

vid Christie Murray 

675 Mrs. Dymond. By Miss Thacke- 

ray 

676 Child’s History of England, A. 

By Charles Dickens 

677 Griselda. By the author of ” A 

Woman’s Love-Story” 

678 Dorothy’s Venture. By Mary 

Cecil HfLy 

679 Where Two Ways Meet. By 

Sarah Doudney 

680 Fast and Loose. By Arthur 

Griffiths 

681 Singer’s Story, A. By May 

Laffan 

682 In the Middle Watch. By- W. 

T^iicgaH 

683 Bachelor Vicar of New forth, 

The. By Mrs. J. Harcourt-Roe 

684 Ijast Days at Apswich . 

68') England under Gladstone. 1880 

—1885. By Justin H. McCar- 
thy, M.P 

686 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and 
Jlr. Hyde. By Robert Louis 

Stevenson 

087 Cmmtry Gentleman, A. By Mrs. 
Oliphant 


688 Man of Honor, A. By John 

Strange Winter. Illustrated. 10 

689 Heir Presumptive, The. By 


Florence Marry at 20 

690 Far From the Madding Crowd. 

By Thomas Hardy 20 

691 Valentine Strange. By David 

Christie Murray 20 

692 Mikado, The. and other Comic 

Operas. "Written by W. S. 
Gilbert. Composed by Arthur 
Sullivan 20 

693 Felix Holt, the Radical. By 

George Eliot 20 

694 John Maidment. By Julian 

Sturgis 20 

695 Hearts: Queen, Knave, and 

Deuce. By David Christie 
Murray 20 

696 Thaddeus of Warsaw. By Miss 

Jane Porter 20 

697 Pretty Jailer, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 1st half.’. 20 

697 Pretty Jailer, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 2d half 20 

698 Life’s Atonement, A. By David 

Christie Murray 20 

699 Sculptor’s Daughter, The. By 

F. Du Boisgobey. 1st half ... 20 

699 Sculptor’s Daughter, The. By 

F. Du Boisgobey. 2d half 20 

700 Ralph the Heir. By Anthony 

Trollope. First half 20 

700 Ralph the Heir. By Anthony 

Trollope. Second half 20 

701 Woman in While, The. Wilkie 

Collins. Illustrated. 1st half 20 

701 Woman in White, The. Wilkie 

Collins. Illustrated. 2d half 20 

702 Man and Wife. By Wilkie Col- 

lins. First half 20 

702 Man and Wife. By Wilkie Col- 

lins. Second half 20 

703 House Divided Against Itself, 

A. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

704 Prince OtU>. By R. L. Steven- 

son 10 

705 Woman I Loved, The, and the 

Woman Who Loved IMe. By 
Isa Blagden 10 

706 Crimson Stain, A. By Annie 

Bradshaw 10 

707 Silas Marner; The Weaver of 

Raveloe. By George Eliot. . . 10 

708 Ormond. By Maria Edgeworth 20 

709 Zenooia; or. The Fall of Pal- 

niyra. By William Ware. 
First half 20 

709 Zenobia; or. The Fall of Pal- 

myra. By William Ware. 
Second half 10 

710 Greatest Heiress in England, 

The. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

711 Cardinal Sin, A. By Hugh Con- 

way, author of Called 
Back ” 20 

712 For Maimie’s Sake. By Grant 

Allen 20 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


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713 “ Cherry Ripe.” By Heleu B. 

Matiiers 20 

714 ’Twixt Love and Duty. By 

Tighe Hopkins 20 

715 I Have Lived and Loved, liy 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

716 Victor and Vanquished. By 

Mary Cecil Hay 20 

717 Beau Tancrede; or, the Mar- 

riage Verdict. By Alexander 
Dumas 20 

718 Unfairly Won. By Mrs. Power 

O’Donoghue 20 

719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. 

By Lord Byron 10 

720 Paul Clifford. By Sir E. Buhver 

Lytton, Bart 20 

721 Dolores. By Mrs. Forrester. . . 20 

722 What’s Mine’s Mine. By George 

Macdonald 20 

723 Mauleverer’s Millions. By T. 

Wemyss Reid 20 

721 M 3 ' Lord and My Lady. By 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

725 Mv Ten Years’ Imprisonment. 

Bv Silvio Pellico 10 

726 My Hero. By Mi's. Forrester.. 20 

727 P air Women. B.y Mrs. Forrester 20 

728 Janet’s Repentance. By George 

Eliot 10 

729 Miguon. By Mrs. Forrester... 20 

730 Autobiography of Benjamin 

Franklin, The 10 

731 Bayou Bride, The. By Mrs. 

Maiy E. Bryan 20 

732 From Olympus to Hades. By 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

733 Lady Branksmere. By “The 

Duchess” 20 

734 Viva. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

7'35 Until the Day Breaks. By 

Emily Spender 20 

736 R »y and Viola. Mrs. Forrester 20 

737 Aunt Rachel. By David Christie 

Murray 10 

738 In the Golden Days. By Edna 

Lyall 20 

739 Cage<i Lion, The. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

740 Rliona. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

741 Heiress of Hilldrop, The; or, 

The Romance of a Young 
Girl. By Oliarlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 20 

742 Love and Life. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge ; 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark 

Russell. 1st half 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark 

Russell. 2d half 20 

744 Diana Carew ; or, For a Wom- 

an's Sake. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

745 For Another’s Sin ; or, A Strug- 

gle for Love. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 


Thorne ” 20 

146 Cavalry Life; or. Sketches and 
Stories in Barracks and Out. 

By J. S. Winter 20 


747 Our Sensation Novel. Edited 

by Justin H. McCarthy, M.P. 10 

748 HuiTish : A Study. By the 

Hon. Emily Lawless 20 

749 Lord Vanecourt’s Daughter. By 

Mabel Collins 20 

750 An 01(1 Story of My Farming 

Days. F'ritz Reuter. 1st half 20 
7'50 An Old Story of My Farming 

Days. Fritz Reuter. 2d half 20 

751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 

gators. Jules Verne. 1st half 20 

751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 

gators. Jules Verne. 2d half 20 

752 Jackanape.s, and Other Stories. 

By Juliana Horatio Ewing. . . 10 

753 King Solomon’s Mines. By H. 


Rider Haggard 20 

754 How to be Happy Though Mar- 

ried. By a Graduate in the 
University of Matrimon}' 20 

755 Margery Daw\ A Novel 20 

756 Strange Adventures of Captain 

Dangerous, The. By George 
Augustus Sala 20 

757 Love’s Martj r. Bj’^ Laurence 

Alma Tadema. . . .* 10 

758 “Good-bye, Sweetheart!” By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

759 In Shallow Waters. By Annie 

Armitt 20 

760 Aurelian ; or, Rome in the Third 

Century. By William Ware. 20 

761 Will Weatherhelm. By William 

H. G. Kingston 20 

762 Impressions of Theophrastus 

Such. By George Eliot 10 

763 Midshipman, The, Marmaduke 

Merry. Wm. H. G. Kingston. 20 

764 Evil Genius, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

765 Not Wisely, But Too Weil. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 


766 No. XIII.; or. The Story of the 

Lost Vestal. Emma Marshall 10 

767 Joan. By Rhoda Broughton.. 20 

768 Red as a Rose is She. By Rhoda 


Broughton 20 

769 Cometh Up as a Flower. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

770 Castle of Otranto, The. By 

Horace Walpole 10 

771 Mental Struggle, A. By “ The 

T)!iphp<?^ 2rt 

772 Gascoyne, the Sandal-Woo(i 

Trader. By R. M. Ballantyne 20 

773 Mark of Cain, The. By Andrew 

Lang 10 

774 Life and Travels of Mungo 

Park The 10 

775 Three Clerks, The. By Anthony 

Trollope 20 


776 P6re Goriot. By H. De Balzac 20 

777 Voyages and Travels of Sir 

John Maundeville, Kt., The.. 10 

778 Society’s Verdict. B}' the au- 

thor of “ My Marriage ” 20 

779 Doom ! An Atlantic Episode. 

By Justiu H. McCarthy, M.P. 10 


u 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


780 Rare Pale Margaret. By the au- 

thor of “ What’s His Offence?” 20 

781 Secret Dispatch, The. By James 


Grant. 10 

782 Closed Door, The. By F. Du 
Boisgobey. 1st half 20 

782 Closed Door, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 2d half 20 

783 Cliantry House. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

784 Two Miss Flemings. The. By au- 

thor of ” What's His Offence?” 20 

785 Haunted Chamber, The. -By 

“ The Duchess ” 10 

78i Ethel Mildmay’s Follies. By 
author of “ Petite's Romance ” 20 

787 Court Royal. A Story of Cross 

Currents. By S. Baring-Gould 20 

788 Absentee, The. An Irish Story. 

By Maria Edgeworth 20 


789 Through the Looking-Glass, 

and What Alice Found There. 

By Lewis Carroll. With fifty 
illustrations by John Tenniel. 20 

790 Chaplet of Pearls, The ; or. The 

White and Black Ribaiimonr, 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 1st half 20 

790 Chaplet of Pearls, The; or, The 

White and Black Ribaumont. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 2d half 20 

791 Mayor of Casterbridge, The. By 


Thomas Hardy 20 

792 Set in Diamonds. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of ” Dora 
Thorne” 20 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 

Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfield. First half 20 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 

Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfield. Second half. . . 20 

794 Beaton’s Bargain. B}’^ Mrs. Al- 

exander 20 

795 Sam’s Sweetheart. By Helen 

B. Mathers 20 

796 In a Grass Country. By Mrs. 

H. Lovett Cameron 20 

797 Look Before You Leap. By 

Mrs. Alexander 20 

798 Fashion of this World, The. By 

Helen B. Mathers 10 

799 My Lady Green Sleeves. By 

Helen B. Mathers 20 


800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 1st half 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes 

from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 2d half 20 

801 She Stoops to Conquer, and 

The Good-Natured Man. By 


Oliver Go’-Vsmith 10 

802 Stern Chase, A. By Mrs.Cashel- 

Hoey 20 

803 Major Frank. By A. L. G. Bos- 

boom-Toussaint 20 

804 Living or Dead. Bj’' Hugh Con- 

way, author of “Called Back ” 20 


805 Freres, The. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander. 1st half 20 

805 Freres, The. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander. 2d half 20 

806 Her Dearest Foe. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander. First half 20 

806 Her Dearest Foe. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander. Second half.-. 20 

807 If Love Be Love. D. Cecil Gibbs 20 

808 King Arthur. Not a Love Story. 

By Miss Mulock 20 

809 Witness My Hand. By the au- 

thor of “ Lady Gwendolen’s 
Tryst ” 10 

810 Secret of Her Life, The. By Ed- 

ward Jenkins 20 

811 Head Station, The. By Mrs. 

Campbell-Praed 20 

812 No Saint. Bjr Adeline Sergeant 20 

813 Army Society. Life in a Garri- 

son Town. By John Strange 
Winter 10 

814 Heritage of Langdale, The. By 

Mrs. Alexander 20 

815 Ralph W’ilton’s Weird. By Mrs. 

Alexander 10 

816 Rogues and Vagabonds. By 

George R. Sims, author of 
“’Ostler Joe” 20 

817 Stabbed in the Dark. By Mrs. 

E. Lynn Linton 10 

818 Pluck. By John Strange Winter 10 

819 Fallen Idol, A. By F. Anstey. . . 20 

820 Doris’s Fortune. By Florence 

Warden 10 

821 World Between Them, The. By 

Charlotte M. Bi'aeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne.” 20 

822 Passion Flower, A. A Novel... 20 

823 Heir of the Ages, The. By James 

Payn 20 

824 Her Own Doing. W. E. Norris 10* 

825 Master Passion, The. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 20 

826 Cynic Fortune. By D. Christie 

Murray 20 

827 Effie Ogilvie. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

828 Prettiest Woman in Warsaw, 

The. By Mabel Collins 20 

829 Actor’s Ward, The. By the au- 

thor of “A Fatal Dower”... 20 

830 Bound by a Spell. Hugh Con- 

way, author of “Called Back” 20 

831 Pomegranate Seed. By the au- 

thor of “ The Two Miss Flem- 
ings,” etc 20 

832 Kidnapped. By Robert Louis 

Stevenson 20 

833 Ticket No. “9672.” By Jules 

Verne. First half lO 

833 Ticket No. “9672.” By Jules 

Verne. Second half 10 

834 Ballroom Repentance, A. By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

835 Vivian the Beauty. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 20 

836 Point of Honor, A. By Mrs. An- 

nie Edwtirds... 


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837 Vagabond Heroine, A. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 10 

838 Ought We to Visit Her? By 

Mrs. Aiinie Edwards 20 

839 Leah : A Woman of Fashion. 

By Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

840 One Thing Needful; or. The 

Penalty of Fate. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

841 Jet: Her Face or Her Fortune? 

By Mrs. Annie Edwards 10 

842 Blue-Stocking, A. By Mrs. An- 

nie Edwards 10 

843 Archie Lovell. By Mrs, Annie 

Edwards 20 

844 Susan Fielding. By Mrs, Annie 

Edvaards 20 

845 Philip Earnscliffe; or, The Mor- 

als of May Fair. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 20 

84G Sceven Lawrence. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards. 1st half 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards. 2d half 20 

847 Bad to Beat. • By Hawley Smart 10 

848 My Friend Jim. By W, E. Norris 10 

849 Wicked Girl, A. Mary Cecil Hay 20 

850 Playwright’s Daughter, A, By 

Mrs, Annie Edwards 10 

851 Cry of Blood, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. First half 20 

851 Cry of Blood, The, By F, Du 

Boisgobey. Second half 20 

852 Under Five Lakes; or. The 

Cruise of the “ Destroyer.” 

By M. Quad 20 

853 True Magdalen, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

854 Woman’s Error, A. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
” Dora Thorne ” 20 

855 Dynamiter, The. By Robert 

Louis Stevenson and Fanny 
Van de Grift Stevenson 20 

856 New Arabian Nights. By Rob- 

ert Louis Stevenson 20 

857 Kildee; or, The Sphinx of tlie 

Red House. By Mary E. 
Biyan. First half 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 

Red House. By Mary E. 
Bryan. Second half 20 

858 Old Ma’m’selle’s Secret. By E. 

Marlitt 20 

859 Ottilie: An Eighteenth Century 

Idyl, and The Prince of the lOO 
Soups. By Vernon Lee 20 

860 Her Lord and Master, By Flor- 

ence Marryat 20 

861 My Sister the Actress. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 20 

862 Ugly Barrington. By ” The 

Duchess.” 10 

863 “My Own Child.” By Florence 

Marryat 20 

864 “ No Intentions.” By Florence 

Marryat 20 


Written in Fire. By Florence 

Marryat 20 

Miss Harrington’s Husband; or. 
Spiders of Society, By Flor- 
ence Marryat I % 

Girls of Fever.sham, The. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

Petronel. By Florence Marryat 20 
Poison of Asps, The. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 10 

Out of His Reckoning, By Floi'- 

ence Marryat. . 10 

Bachelor’s Blunder, A. By W. 

E. Norris 20 

With Cupid’s Eyes. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 

Harvest of Wild Oats, A. By 

Florence Marr 3 -at 20 

House Party, A. By ” Ouida ”. 10 
Lady Val worth s Diamonds. By 

“ The Duchess 20 

Mignon’s Secret. John Strange 

Winter 10 

Facing the Footlights. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 

Little Tu’pennj’. By S. Baring- 

Gould 10 

Touchstone of Peril, The. By 

R. E. Forrest 20 

Son of His Father, The. By 

Mrs. Oliphant 20 

Mohawks. Miss M. E. Braddon 20 
Children of Gibeon. By' Walter 

Besant 20 

Once Again. By Mrs. Forrester 20 
Voyage to the Cape, A. Bj’ W. 

Clark Russell 20 

Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. 

Parti 20 

Les MisC'iables. Victor Hugo. 

Part 1 1 20 

Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. . 

Part III 2G 

Paston Carew, Millionaire and 
Mi.ser. Mrs. E. Lynn Linton 20 
Modern Telemachiis, A. By 

Charlotte IM. Yonge. 20 

Treasure Island. Robert Louis 

Stevenson 10 

An Inland Voyage. By Robert 

Louis Stevenson 10 

Mistletoe Bough, The. Christ- 
mas, 1886. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

Vera Nevill; or, Poor Wisdom’s 
Chance. By Mrs. H. Lovett 

Cameron 20 

That Winter Night; or, Love's 
Victory. Robert Buclianan. . 10 
Love's Conflict. By Florence 

Marry'at. First half 20 

Love’s Conflict. By Florence 

Marryat. Second half 20 

Doctor Cupid. By Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

Star and a Heart, A. By Flor- 


©net? iudi 1 3 lu 

Guilty River, The. By Wilkie 
Collins 10 


865 

866 

867 

868 

869 

870 

871 

872 

873 

874 

875 

876 

877 

878 

879 

880 

881 

882 

883 

884 

885 

885 

885 

886 

887 

888 

889 

890 

891 

892 

893 

893 

894 

895 

896 


16 


THE SEASIDE LIBHAHY— Pocket Edition. 


897 Anere. By Florence Marryat. . . 

898 Bulldojrand Butterfly, and Julia 

and Her Romeo, l)y David 
Christie Jluri’ay, and Romeo 
and Juliet, by 'VVilliain Black. 

899 Little Stepson, A. By Florence 

Marryat 

900 Woman’s Wit, By. By Mrs. Al- 

exander 

901 Lucky Disappointment, A. By 

Florence Marryat 

902 Poor Gentleman, A. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 

903 Pliyllida. By Florence Marryat 

904 Holy Rose, The. By Walter Be- 

san.t 

905 Fair-Haired Alda, The. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 

90G World Went Very Weil Tlien, 
The. By Walter Besant 

907 Bright Star of Life, The. By 

B. L. Farjeon 

908 Willful Young Woman, A 

909 Nine of Hearts, The. By B. L. 

Farjeon 

910 She: A History of Adventure. 

By H. Rider Haggard 

911 Golden Bells: A Peal in Seven 

Changes. By R. E. Francillon 
913 Pure Gold. 13y Mrs. H. Lovett 
C* in © I* o u 

913 Silent Shore, The, By John 

Bloundelle- Burton 

914 Joan Wentworth. By Katlia- 

riue S. Macquoid 

915 That Other Person. By Mrs. 

Alfred Hunt 

916 Golden Hope, The. By W. Clark 

Russell 

917 Case of Reuben Malachi, Tlie. 

By H. Sutherland Edwards.. 

918 Red Band, The. By F. Du Bois- 

gobey. First half 

918 Red Band, The. By F. Du Bois- 

gobey. Second half 

919 Locksley Hall Sixty Years Af- 

ter, etc. By Alfred, Lord 
Tennyson, P.L.. D.C.L 

920 Child of the Revolution, A. By 

the author of “ Mademoiselle 
Mori ” 

921 Late Miss Hollingford, The. 

By Rosa Mulholland 

922 Marjorie, By Charlotte M. 

Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne,” 

287 At War With Herself. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne ” 

923 At War With Herself. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme. (Large type 
edition) 

924 ’Twixt Smile and Tear. Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 

925 The Outsider. Hawley Smart. 

926 Springhaven. By R. D. Black- 

more 


927 Sweet Cyinbeline. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

294 Hilda; or. The False Vow. By 

(charlotte M. Braeme 10 

928 Hilda; or. The False Vow. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne.” (Large 
type edition) 20 

929 The Belle of Lynn; or. The 

Miller's Daughter. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

930 Uncle Max. By RosaNouchette 

931 Lady Diana’s Pride. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

932 Queenie’s Whim. Rosa Nou- 

chette Care}' 20 

933 A Hidden Terror. Mary Albert 20 

934 Wooed and Married. By Rosa 

Nouchette Carey 20 

935' Borderland. Jessie Fothe^ill. 20 

936 Nellie s • Memories. By Rosa 

Nouchette Carey 20 

937 Cashel Byron’s Profession. By 

George Bernard Shaw 20 

938 Cranford. By Mrs. Gaskell 20 

939 Why Not? Florence Marryat.. 20 

940 The IMerry Men, and Other Tales 

and Fables. By Robert Louis 
Stevenson 20 

941 Jess. By H. Rider Haggard. . . 20 

942 Cash on Delivery. By F. Du 

Boisgobey 20 

943 Weavers and Weft; or, “ Love 

that Hath Us iti His Net.” By 
:ftliss ]M. E. Braddon 20 

944 The Professor. By Charlotte 

BrontO 20 

945 The Trumpet-Major. Thomas 

Hardy 20 

946 The Dead Secret. By W^ilkie 

Collins 20 

947 Publicans and Sinners: or, Lu- 

cius Davoren. By Miss M. E. 
Braddon, First half 20 

947 Publicans and Sinners; or, Lu- 

cius Davoren. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon. Second half 20 

293 The Shadow of a Sin. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

948 The Shadow of a Sin. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne.” (Large type 
edition) 20 

949 Claribel’s Love Story; or. 

Love’s Hidden Depths. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne” 20 


25 Mrs. Geoffrey. By “ The Duch- 
ess.” (Large type edition)... 20 
950 Sirs. Geoffrey, “ The Duchess ” 10 
459 Woman’s Temptation, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne.” (Large 
type edition) 20 


20 

20 

10 

30 

10 

20 

30 

10 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 

30 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY — Pocket Edition. 17 


951 Woman’s Temptation, A. By- 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Tligme ” 10 

295 Woman’s War, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

953 Woman’s War, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of ” Dora 
Thorne.” (Large type edition) 20 
297 Hilary’s Folly; or, Her Mar- 
l iage Vow. By Cimrlotte M. 
Braeme, author of ” Dora 
Thorue ” 10 

953 Hilary’s Folly; or. Her Mar- 

riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of ” Dora 
Thorne.” (Large type edition) 20 

954 A Girl’s Heart. By the author 

of “Nobody’s Darling” 20 

238 From Gloom to Sunlight; or. 
From Out tlie Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

955 From Gloom to Sunlight; or. 

From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne.” (Large 
type edition) 20 

956 Her Johnnie. By Violet Whyte 20 

957 The Woodlaudei*s. By Thomas 

Hardy 20 

958 A Haunted Life; or. Her Terri- 

ble Sin. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “Dora Thorne”... 20 


9.59 Dawn. By H. Rider Haggard. 20 

960 Elizabeth’s Fortune. By Bertha 

Thomas 20 

961 Wee Wide. By Rosa Nouchette 

Carey 20 

962 Sabina Zembra. William Black 20 

963 Worth Winning. By Mrs. H. 

Lovett Cameron 20 

964 A Struggle for the Right; or, 

Tracking the Truth 20 

965 Periwinkle. By Arnold Gray.. 20 

966 He, by the author of “King 

Solomon’s Wives”; and A 
Siege Baby and Childhood’s 
Memories, by J. S. Winter.... 20 
237 Repented at Leisure. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne.” (Large type 
Edition) ‘ . 20 

967 Repented at Leisure. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

968 Blossom and Fruit; or, Ma- 

dame’s Ward. By the author 
of “Wedded Hands” 20 

969 The Mystery of Colde Fell ; or. 

Not Proven. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

970 King Solomon’s Wives; or. The 

Phantom Mines. By Hyder 
Ragged. (Illustrated) 20 

971 Garrison Gossip: Gathered in 

Blankhampton. John Strange 
Winter 20 

973 Gold Elsie. By E. Marlitt 20 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.-Pocket Edition. 

Always IJMcIianged and Unabridged. 

LATES'J’ ISSUES: 


NO. PRICK 

669 Pole on Whist 20 

432 THE WITCH’S HEAD. By 

H. Rider Hagrgard 20 

931 Lady Diana’s Pride. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 20 

953 Hilary’s Folly; or, Her Mar- 
riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne.” (Large type edition) 20 
955 From Gloom to Sunlight; or, 
From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne.” (Large 

type edition) 20 

958 A Haunted Life; or. Her Tenu- 
ble Sin. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 20 

964 A Struggle for the Right; or. 

Tracking the Truth 20 

965 Periwinkle. By Arnold Gray. . 20 

966 He, by the author of “King 

Solomon’s Wives”; and A 
Siege Baby and Childhood’s 

Memories, by J. S. AVinter 20 

968 Blossom and Fruit; or, Ma- 
dame’s AVard. By the author 


of “ AVedded Hands ” 20 

969 The Mystery of Colde Fell ; or. 

Not Proven. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Doi a 
Thorne ” 20 

970 King Solomon’s AVives; or. The 

Phantom Mines. By Hyder 
Ragged. (Illustrated) 20 

971 GaiTison Gossip: Gathered in 

Blankhampton. Jolm Strange 
AAHnter 20 

972 Gold Elsie. By E. Marlitt 20 

973 The Squire’s Darling. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

974 Strathmore; or, Wrought by 

His Own Hand. Br ‘‘ Ouida.” 
First half 20 

974 Strathmore; or. Wrought by 

His Own Hand. By “ Ouida.” 
Second half 20 

975 A Dark Marriage Morn. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 


976 Robur the Conqueror; or, A 
Trip Round the AVorld in a 
Flying Machine. Jules Verne 20 


977 The Haunted Hotel. By AVilkie 

Collins 20 

978 Her Second Love. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 


NO. PRICE. 

979 The Count’s Secret. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Part 1 20 

979 The Count’s Secret. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Part II 20 

980 To Call Her Mine. By AValter 

Besant 20 

981 Granville de Vigne; or. Held in 

Bondage. By “Ouida.” 1st 
half 20 

981 Granville de AHgne; or. Held in 

Bondage. By “ Ouida.” 2d 
half 20 

982 The Duke’s Secret. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

983 Uarda. A Romance of Ancient 

Egypt. By George Ebers 20 

984 Her Own Sister. By E. S. 

AATlliamson 20 


985 On Her AA'edding Morn, and 

The Mystery of the Holly- 
Tree. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

986 The Great Hesper. By Frank 

Barrett 20 

987 Brenda Yorke, and Upon the 

Waters. By Mary Cecil Hay. 20 

988 The Shattered Idol, and Letty 

Leigh. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 20 

989 Allan Quatermain. By H. Rider 

Haggard 20 

990 The Earl’s Error, and Arnold’s 

Promise. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 20 

991 Mr. Midshipman Easy. By Cap- 

tain Marryat 20 

992 Marrying and Giving in Mar- 

riage. By Mrs. Molesworth... 20 

993 Fighting the Air. By Florence 

Marryat 20 

994 A Penniless Orphan. By AV. 

Heimburg 20 

995 An Unnatural Bondage, and 

That Beautiful Lad3\ Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

996 Idalia. By “ Ouida.” 1st half. 20 

996 Idalia. By “Ouida.” 2d half. 20 

997 Forging the Fetters, and The 

Australian Aunt. By Mrs. 


Alexander 20 

998 Open, Sesame! By Florence 
Marryat 20 

1004 Mad Dumare.sq. By Florence 

Marryat 20 

1005 99 Dark Street. By F. AV. Rob- 

inson 20 


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